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AUTHOR 


FITZ  PATRICK,  WALTER 


TITLE: 


GREAT  CONDE  AND  THE 
PERIOD  OF  THE  FRONDE 

PLACE: 

LONDON 

DA  TE : 

1873 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
PRESERVATION  DEPARTMENT 

BIBLIOGRAPHIC  MICROFORM  TARGET 


Master  Negative  # 
^1' Bo 361-3 


Original  Material  as  Filmed  -  Existing  Bibliographic  Record 


944.033 
C753 


Fitz  Patrick,  Walter. 

The  Great  Conde  and  the  period  of  the  Fronde.  A  his- 
torical sketch.  By  Walter  Fitz  Patrick  ...  London,  T.  C. 
Newby,  1873. 

2  V.    20i-. 


Restrictions  on  Use: 


1.  Cond4,  Louis  ii  de  Bourbon,  prince  de,  called  le  Grand  Cond^,  1621- 
1C§6.     2.  Fronde.    3.  France— Illst— Louis  xiv,  1G43-1715. 


5—2820 


Library  of  Congress 


•    DC130.C7F5 
i40dlj 


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THE    GREAT    CONDE 


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THE    PERIOD   OF    THE    FRONDE. 


A  HISTORICAL  SKETCH. 


BY 


WALTER  JIITZ  PATRICK. 


VOL.  I. 


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THE    GREAT    CONDE    AND    THE 
PERIOD  OF  THE  FRONDE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


The  House  of  Bourbon  is  descended  from  a 
younger  son  of  St.  Louis.  Charles  of  Bourbon, 
Duke  of  Yen  dome,  who  died  in  the  year  1536, 
left  three  sons — Anthony,  Duke  of  Vendome,  who 
by  his  marriage  with  Jeanne  d'Albret  became 
King  of  Navarre ;  the  Cardinal  of  Bourbon,  whom 
the  Catholic  League  afterwards  proclaimed  Ejug 
of  France  in  opposition  to  his  nephew,  Henry  lY. ; 
and  Louis,  first  Prince  of  Conde.  Louis  embraced 
the  reformed  tenets,  and  was  the  leader  of  the 
Huguenot  party  in  the  rehgious  troubles  which 
broke  out  in  France  after  the  death  of  Henry  II. 
He  was  an  ambitious  and  turbulent  prince  of  great 
courage  and  some  capacity,  but  his  fortunes  paled 

VOL.   I.  B 


614 


^ 


h 


before  the  splendid  genius  of  Francis  Duke  of 
Guise.  He  was  about  to  be  led  to  the  block  in 
1559,  when  the  sudden  death  of  King  Francis  II., 
throwing  the  reins  of  government  into  the  hands 
of  the  Queen-mother,  Catherine  de  Medici,  gave 
him  life  and  liberty.  In  1562  he  was  defeated 
and  taken  prisoner  by  Guise  at  the  battle  of 
Dreux.  After  the  assassination  of  the  Great 
Duke  by  Palliot,  an  emissary  of  Admiral  Coligni, 
while  he  was  besieging  Orleans  in  the  following 
year,  Conde  again  recovered  his  freedom,  and  held 
a  leading  position  in  the  State  until  he  was  de- 
feated and  killed  at  the  battle  of  Jarnac  in  1569. 
The  son  of  Louis,  Henry,  second  Prince  of 
Conde,  was  brought  up  in  his  father^s  faith,  in 
intimate  association  with  Jeanne  d'Albret,  and 
her  son,  the  young  Prince  of  Beam,  who  succeeded 
to  the  kingdom  of  Navarre  at  his  mother's  death 
in  1572.  Henry  of  Conde  shared  the  fortunes  of 
his  cousin  after  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew, 
and  during  the  early  part  of  the  wars  of  the 
League.  He  especially  distinguished  himself  at 
the  battle  of  Courtias  in  1587.  A  few  months 
after  this  victory  he  died  at  St.  Jean  d'Angely. 
The  circumstances  surrounding  his  death  excited 
strong  suspicion  of  foul  play  on  the  part  of  his 
wife  Charlotte,  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  la  Tre- 
mouille.     She  was  accused  of  poisoning  her  lius- 


1^ 


band  in  order  to  prevent  his  discovering  her  adul- 
tery with  a  page  named  Belcastel,  of  which  her 
condition  was  Hkely  to  afford  conclusive  evidence; 
and  after  a  trial  on  this  charge  before  a  Huguenot 
tribunal  at  St.  Jean  d'Angely,  was  condemned  to 
death.  Being  with  child,  she  was  respited  pend- 
ing her  accouchement,  and  imprisoned  in  a  tower 
of  the  town,  where  later  in  the  year  she  gave  birth 
to  a  son.  In  the  meantime  the  Parliament 
of  Paris,  claiming  exclusive  jurisdiction  over 
criminals  of  her  rank,  declared  the  sentence  of 
death  invalid  on  account  of  the  incompetency  of 
the  court,  and,  as  on  the  death  of  Henry  III.  in 
the  same  year  the  acknowledged  princes  of  the 
blood,  the  Prince  of  Conti,  the  Count  of  Soissons, 
and  the  Cardinal  of  Bourbon,  were  Catholics; 
the  Huguenots,  reluctant  to  injure  the  claims  of 
the  princess's  child  as  next  heir  to  his  cousin, 
Henry  IV.,  allowed  the  judgment  to  remain  dor- 
mant. The  princess,  however,  remained  a  prisoner 
till  1595,  when  Henry  IV.,  firmly  seated  on  the 
French  throne,  feeling  dissatisfied  at  the  tur- 
bulent proceedings  of  the  Court  of  Soissons,  an- 
nulled the  sentence  of  death.  Although  Henry  had 
made  no  secret  of  his  own  conviction  of  her  guilt, 
he  granted  Madame  de  Conde  a  new  trial  before 
the  Parliament  of  Paris.  The  High  Court  de- 
clared her  innocent,  whereupon  the  King  acknow- 

B  2 


ex 


ledged  her  son  as  firs^  Prince  of  the  blood,  and 
caused  him  to  be  educated  at  St.  Germain  in  the 
Catholic  Faith. 

The  16th  century  undoubtedly  forms  one  of  the 
most  important  epochs  in  the  history  of  the  world. 
Never,  at  any  other  period,  has  the  human  mind 
been  more  deeply  stirred  by  questions  of  more 
tremendous  moment;  no  other  period  has  produced 
a   greater   number   of   extraordinary   characters. 
But  exactly  in  proportion  to  the  vehemence  of  the 
strife   which   convulsed    the   leading  nations  of 
Europe,  its  passions,  noble  and  ignoble,  warped 
and  clouded  men's  minds,  and  prevented   their 
always  estimating  justly  the  characters  of  their 
leaders.     The  gods  of  the  popular  worship,  as  seen 
through  the  turbid  haze  of  party  enthusiasm,  en- 
throned  on    lofty   pinnacles,   and    radiant   with 
undying   glory,  occasionally  prove,  in  the   clear 
atmosphere  of  historical  truth,  mean  and  grovel- 
hng  idols,  having  fronts  of  brass  and  feet  of  clay. 
With  perhaps  one  exception,  there  is  no  pubhc 
character   of   great   mark   that  bears  worse  the 
strong  light  which  modern  research  has  thrown 
upon  the   16th   century  than   Henri  Quatre,   to 
whom  flatterers  have  given  the  much-abused  title 
of  The  Great.     The  exception  is  Queen  Elizabeth 
of  England,  whose  real  character  is  so  vividly 
presented  to  us  in  the  confidential  correspondence 


h 


of  the  singularly  able  aj^d  crooked  statesmen, 
who,  in  their  own  interests,  propped  her  throne, 
and  were  the  sport  and  the  victims  of  her  cunning 
hypocrisy  and  capricious  humours.  Vain,  false, 
cruel,  crafty,  inconstant,  and  sordidly  avaricious, 
joining  much  that  is  most  repulsive  in  the  rioting 
passions  of  a  fierce  and  gross  masculine  nature 
to  the  most  unloveable  failings  of  her  own  i 
the  coarse  ferocity  and  ruthless  temper  of  F  .  .  ^ 
YIII.,  to  the  fickle  selfishness  of  a  coquf '  te,  and 
the  caressing  guile  of  a  tigress — these  traits  of 
Elizabeth's  character  are  apparent,  even  from  the 
reluctant  evidence  of  modern  historians  of  her  own 
party.  But  we  find  scarcely  a  trace  of  the  glorious 
intellect,  not  a  glimpse  of  the  greatness  of  soul, 
which  popular  fancy  has  attributed  to  the  last  of 
the  Tudor  sovereigns. 

In  truth,  Henry's  claims  to  the  lofty  titles 
which  sectarian  prejudice  and  national  vanity  have 
lavished  on  him  rest  on  as  slender  foundations. 
He  had  the  restless  energy,  the  buoyant  spirit, 
and  the  brilliant — if  somewhat  boastful— courage 
characteristic  of  the  Gascons,  with  a  sagacious 
sense  and  a  strong  love  of  his  own  interests,  un- 
clouded and  unfettered  by  any  motive  or  restraint, 
except  the  ephemeral  chains  woven  by  an  in- 
satiable propensity  to  gallantry.  He  had  a  plea- 
sant wit,  frank  and  familiar  manners,  not  always 


ti 


free  from  deceit,  and,  wlien  his  interests  or  his 
passions  did  not  arouse  wliat  was  tyrannical  in  his 
disposition,  an  easy  good  nature,  which  was  prone 
to  degenerate  into  weakness.  What  perhaps  has 
contributed  most  to  his  wide  popularity  is  the  say- 
ing attributed  to  him,  that  he  wished  every  French 
peasant  to  have  a  fowl  boiling  in  his  pot.  This  is 
one  of  those  sounding  sentiments  of  visionary 
benevolence  which  captivate  the  minds  of  men, 
especially  of  Frenchmen ;  and  which,  if  it  had 
expressed  in  any  degree  the  policy  of  their  ruler, 
would  have  entitled  him  to  the  gratitude  of  his 
subjects.  But  it  was  merely  a  gush  of  cheap 
philanthropy  which  he  exemplified  by  loading  his 
impoverished  kingdom,  desolated  by  the  wars  of  the 
League,  with  excessive  taxation,  in  order  to  extort 
the  means  of  indulging  his  costly  vices,  and  of 
plunging  unwiUing  Europe,  without  any  just  pre- 
text, into  a  desperate  conflict,  an  earlier  unchain- 
ing of  the  fiendish  passions  and  the  unutterable 
woes  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War. 

But  circumstances  were  singularly  favourable 
to  Henri  Quatre.  The  last  three  kings  of  the 
house  of  Valois,  his  predecessors  and  contem- 
poraries, were  among  the  least  estimable  of 
French  sovereigns.  The  brilliant  sceptre  of 
Francis  I.  had  descended  to  the  vile  brood  of 
Catherine  of  Medicis,  the  sickly  and  feeble-minded 


6 


9 


Francis  II. ;  Charles  IX.,  whose  brief  and  unhappy 
life  was  a  restless  condition  of  morbid  self-torture, 
passing  at  intervals  from  the  sullen  frenzy  of 
brooding  suspicion  to  the  wild  frenzy  of  unbridled 
rage ;  Henry  III.,  the  most  infamous  of  mankind. 
Before  Henry  IV.  was  entitled  to  claim  the 
succession  to  the  French  crown,  the  family  of 
Lorraine-Guise,  the  most  illustrious  on  the  splen- 
did roll  of  French  nobility — ^perhaps  the  most 
illustrious  in  modern  annals — which  had  furnished 
two  generations  of  champions  and  martyrs  to  the 
Catholic  cause,  the  grand  figures  of  the  men 
towering  above  a  race  of  giants,  the  women  peer- 
less in  beauty,  in  cultivated  intellect,  and  in  the 
noble  fortitude  that  vanquishes  misfortune,  had 
been  robbed  of  its  strength  and  its  glory  by  the 
hands  of  assassins.  A  branch  of  the  house  of 
Lorraine,  in  comparison  with  which  even  the 
royal  race  of  Capet  was  mean,  the  Guises  traced 
back  their  august  lineage  through  a  long  line  of 
warrior  princes  to  the  Imperial  figure  of  Charle- 
magne. By  one  of  those  strange  revolutions 
which  time  brings  about,  the  house  of  Lorraine, 
deriving  its  origin  from  the  great  Frank  who 
re-established  the  Roman  empire  of  the  west — 
after  many  centuries  of  inferior,  though  not 
obscure,  sovereignty — had  risen  again  to  the 
summit    of    greatness    in    three  generations  of 


8 

Roman    Emperors,    when    the    Imperial    fabric 
crumbled  beneath    the    sword    of    a    conqueror 
greater  even  than  Charlemagne.     Francis,  Duke 
of  Guise  is,  bv  universal  consent,  one  of  the  most 
splendid  and  stainless  characters  in  history.     He 
possessed  in  a  superlative  degree  all  the  qualities 
that  attract  admiration  and  love,  and  his  life  was 
a  noble  example  of  pubHc   and  private  virtue. 
His    six    brothers  stood  in  repute   second  only 
to  him.      The  Cardinal  of  Lorraine,  besides  be- 
ing renowned   throughout    Europe  as  a  theolo- 
gian and  a  scholar,  was  the  most  profound,  vigor- 
ous,  and    accomplished    statesman    France    has 
produced,  with  the  exception  of  Cardinal  Richelieu. 
Nor  were  the  women  of  the  family  inferior  to  the 
men.      For   courage,    capacity  for   government, 
virtue,  and  beauty,  Mary,  wife  of  James  V.  of 
Scotland,  had  no  equal  among  the  princesses  of 
her  time.     The  brilliant  and  engaging  qualities, 
the  ardent  attachment  to  their  faith,  the   deep 
mutual  affection  binding  its  members  together  in 
unwavering  fidelity,  the  extraordinary  majesty  and 
beauty  of  person,  worthy  of   its  Imperial  origin 
and  Imperial  spirit,  that  distinguished  the  entire 
family,  gave  it  an  indisputable  pre-eminence  which 
is  recognised  with  an  admiration  rising  to  wonder 
in  the  diplomatic  correspondence  of  the  period. 
The  son  of  Francis,  Henry  Duke  of  Guise,  if  of 


A 


9 

a  character  less  lofty  and  pure  than  his  heroic 
father,  rivalled  him  in  military  and  political  genius, 
m  the  strength  of  his  rehgious  convictions,  and  in 
the  splendour  of  his  personal  gifts.  It  is  in 
reference  to  him  that  the  Duchess  of  Retz,  the 
most  accomplished  and  fastidious  lady  of  the 
court  of  Catherine  of  Medicis,  and  by  no  means  a 
partial  critic,  says,  "  Those  princes  of  the  house  of 
Lorraine  have  so  noble  and  majestic  a  mien  that 
in  comparison  to  them,  all  other  men  appear  ple- 
beian and  common."  But  when  Henry  of  Guise 
fell  in  the  hour  of  his  triumph,  perfidiously  mur- 
dered by  Henry  II.,  as  his  father  had  been  cut 
off  in  his  career  of  victory  by  an  assassin  suborned 
by  Coligni,  the  house  of  Lorraine-Guise  and  the 
Catholic  cause  fell  under  the  leadership  of  the 
self-seeking  and  sluggish  Mayenne.  To  Mayenne 
Henri  Quatre  was  as  superior  as  he  was  inferior 
to  either  Duke  of  Guise.  At  the  very  beginning 
of  the  struggle  between  them,  when  the  chances 
of  success  seemed  decidedly  on  the  side  of  the 
Catholic  League,  Pope  Sixtus  V.  said  that  the 
Bearnais  must  win,  because  he  spent  less  time  in 
bed  than  Mayenne  did  at  his  meals.  In  fact, 
when  Henry  had  once  made  up  his  mind  to  conform 
to  the  Catholic  faith,  the  issue  of  the  conflict  was 
no  longer  doubtful.  And  when  France  had  again 
become  united,  and  the  religious  passions  of  the 

B  5 


10 

time  began  to  cool  down,  the  religious  element 
wliicli  liad  been  tbe  essential  feature  of  the  Civil 
War  was  gradually  lost  sight  of,  or  purposely  dis- 
regarded in  favour  of  the  political  element  which 
had  been  an  accident.  The  old  national  spirit  of 
rivalry  to  Spain,  which  had  been  overpowered  for 
a  time  by  a  still  stronger  sentiment,  revived  in  all 
its  former  intensity.  The  ex-Huguenot  leader  was 
forgotten  in  the  gallant  king  who  had  freed  France 
from  the  domination  of  Philip  II.  National 
vanity,  personified  in  later  times  by  Voltaire,  has 
invested  the  only  sovereign  of  the  disastrous  period 
of  French  history  that  followed  the  death  of  Henry 
II. — whose  character  or  capacity  was  not  con- 
temptible—with all  the  qualities  that  should  adorn 
a  sage  and  a  hero. 

Whether  we  regard  Henry  IV.  from  an  intel- 
lectual or  a  moral  point  of  view,  his  claims  to 
greatness  do  not  bear  investigation.  His  talents 
as  a  ruler  were  not  more  than  respectable.  In  the 
beginning  of  his  reign,  when  his  council  was  com- 
posed of  men  of  but  ordinary  ability,  and  not 
always  of  ordinary  integrity,  his  affairs  fell  into  a 
state  of  frightful  confusion,  with  which  he  was 
utterly  unable  of  himself  to  grapple.  It  was  only 
when  he  virtually  surrendered  the  two  great  de- 
partments of  the  administration  to  two  very  able 
men — ^Villeroy,  the  most  expert  of  politicians  ; 


h 


11 


and  Sully,  stern,  frugal,  and  unscrupulous,  whose 
one  rule  of  conduct  was  devotion  to  the  interests 
of  his  master — that  his  government  exhibited 
skill  in  diplomacy,  or  order  in  finance.  And  the 
most  anxious  cares  of  Sully  were  caused  by  the 
unkingly  folHes  and  caprices  that  constantly 
thwarted  the  great  minister's  labours. 

The  mihtary  talents  of  Henry  were  not  of  a 
high  order.  It  is  true  that  he  won  great  renown 
as  the  victor  at  Arques  and  Ivry.  And  so  far  as 
the  heroic  spirit  of  a  leader  determines  the  fate  of 
battles,  he  deserved  his  renown.  But,  besides 
that,  whatever  of  warlike  skill  existed  at  the  time 
in  France,  and  perhaps  at  no  period  was  French 
generalship  at  so  low  an  ebb,  had  enlisted  unr*  -^r 
the  royal  banner,  Henry  had  on  his  side  the  sloth, 
the  indecision,  and  the  incapacity  of  his  opponent, 
Mayenne.  When  pitted  against  the  Duke  of 
Parma,  the  contrast  between  the  royal  ^'  Captain 
of  Horse  '^  and  the  consummate  Spanish  general 
was  ludicrous.  The  ease  with  which  the  great 
master  of  war,  although  sinking  under  a  mortal 
illness,  twice  led  his  small  army  from  the  Nether- 
lands into  the  heart  of  France,  baffling  with  the 
calm  contempt  of  superior  science  every  effort  of 
the  French  King  to  retard  his  movements  or 
compel  him  to  fight,  and,  without  a  blow,  raising 
the  sieges  of  Eouen  and    Paris ;  his  astonishing 


12 


feat  of  carrying  his  troops^  wliicli,  during  one  of 
tlie  paroxysms  of  his  disorder,  had  been  shut  up 
without  supplies  and  without  apparent  possibility 
of  escape,  in  an  angle  of  the  Seine,  near  Eouen, 
across  the  broad  and  rapid  river,  in  the  face  of  his 
amazed  foes,  without  the  loss  of  a  single  man  or  a 
single  gun ;  and  the  deliberate  skill  with  which, 
when  he  had  accomplished  his  objects,  he  slowly 
marched  back  again  into  Flanders,  the  whole 
chivalry  of  the  kingdom  following  on  his  track  in 
helpless  rage  and  mortification,  inflicted  greater 
humiliation  on  the  French  arms  than  the  loss  of 
two  pitched  battles. 

The  moral  character  of  Henry  was  despicable. 
The  facility  with  which  he  changed  his  belief,  as  if 
it  was  merely  a  garment,  outraged  even  the  lax 
public  morality  of  that  age.  Tlie  more  distin- 
guished leaders  of  the  Protestant  party  through- 
out Europe,  however  eminent  for  parts  and  for 
force  of  will,  were  not,  as  a  rule,  influenced  by 
deep  religious  convictions.  As  in  the  case  of 
Maurice  of  Saxony,  probably  the  ablest  of  them 
all,  their  religion  was  a  part  of  their  policy.  They 
were  statesmen  who  regarded  the  vehement  theo- 
logical ferment,  that  stirred  in  the  minds  of  their 
followers,  as  a  vigorous  power,  which,  if  skilfully 
directed,  might  achieve  empire.  But  though  for 
the  greater  part  unencumbered  with    scruples. 


J 


13 


they  generally  maintained  in  their  outer  conduct 
a  decent  show  of  conformity  to  the  opinions  and 
feelings  of  their  adherents.      Henry,   however,, 
with  a  cynical  levity  peculiar  to  himself,  habitually 
adapted  his  creed  to  his  interests.     And  to  this 
shameless    disregard    of    obligations,   the    most 
sacred  amongst  men,  which  enabled  him  to  take 
full   advantage   of   the   sentiment   of   hereditary 
right,  so  strongly  cherished  by  Frenchmen  at  that 
time,  he  owed  his  success,  far  more  than  to  his 
political  or  military  abilities.     When  established 
on  the  throne,  his  personal  conduct  as  a  ruler  was 
seldom  shaped  in  consonance  with  any  standard 
of  high  principle  or  enlightened  statesmanship. 
When  he  was  not  tyrannical  he  was  weak.     He 
was  always  selfish.     The  most  sacred  motives  of 
justice  and  of  honour,  the  longest  and  most  bril- 
liant services,  weighed  as  nothing  in  his  mind  in 
comparison  With  the  policy  or  inclination  of  the 
moment.     He  was  easily  moved  to  tears,  to  bursts 
of  hysterical  emotion  at  a  grief  that  touched  him- 
self.    He   would   weep   piteously   in    recounting 
what  he  suffered  from  some  ludicrous  freak  of  a 
coquettish  mistress.     But  he  was  incapable  alike 
of  large-minded  benevolence,   or   of  a  generous 
and  lasting  attachment. 

With  the  exception  of  the  old  Marshal  Biron, 
who  had  died  for  his  cause,  no  one  had  done  more 


14 

to  seat  Mm  on  the  throne  than  the  Marshals  son, 
the  Duk6  of  Biron.  They  had  long  been  sworn 
comrades  and  brothers-in-arms.  Biron  was  vain 
and  irritable.  Eightly  or  wrongly^  he  entertained 
the  belief  that  his  services  had  not  been  sufficiently 
recompensed;  that  others  less  deserving  had  been 
preferred  to  himself.  Smarting  under  a  sense  of 
injustice^  he  gave  ear  to  the  perfidious  counsels  of 
a  secretary,  and  while  commanding  an  army 
against  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  allowed  himself  to  be 
drawn  into  a  treasonable  correspondence  with  the 
enemies  of  France.  The  negotiations,  however, 
were  still  incomplete  when  he  was  struck  with 
remorse,  and,  repairing  to  Lyons,  confessed  his 
treason  to  the  King.  Henry,  taken  by  surprise, 
fell  on  his  old  friend^s  neck  in  a  passion  of  tears, 
and  granted  him  full  pardon.  After  the  termina- 
tion of  the  war,  Biron,  who  had  retired  to 
his  government  of  Burgundy,  received  an  invita- 
tion from  the  King  to  repair  to  Fontainebleau. 
The  missive  contained  the  royal  pledge  that  no 
harm  should  befal  him.  The  Duke,  contrary 
to  the  advice  of  his  friends,  went  up  to  Court. 
He  was  received  by  Henry  with  a  gush  of 
tender  affection,  but  after  a  few  days,  during 
which  his  movements  were  closely  watched,  he 
was  suddenly  arrested,  and  despite  of  pardon 
and  pledge,   was  arraigned   before  the   Parlia- 


. 


15 

ment   of  Paris  for  the   crime  which  had  been 
condoned  at  Lyons,  sentenced  to  death,  and  be- 
headed  on  the  Place  de  Greve.     It  is  true  that 
Henry,  who  was  keenly  sensitive  to  the  horror 
which  this  tyrannical   act  provoked  throughout 
Europe,  and  to  the  feelings  of  indignation  and 
distrust  which  it  aroused  in  the  French  nobility, 
afterwards  alleged,  in  his  own  justification,  that 
proofs  of  new  treasons  on  the  part  of  Biron  had 
come  to  light,  and  that  the  Duke's  obstinacy  in 
refusing  to  confess  his  guilt  was  the  sole  cause  of 
his  ruin.     But  Biron  was  entrapped  by  means  of 
a  formal  pledge  of    safety  sent  to  him  by  his 
sovereign  when  in  full  possession  of  all  the  evi- 
dence.  He  denied  to  his  last  breath  the  additional 
accusations,    which  rested   on  the   unsupported 
testimony  of  his  secretary  and  tempter,  a  man  of 
infamous  character,  who  had  been  bought,  if  not 
suborned,  by  the  Duke  of  Sully.      And  the  only 
really  weighty  charge  preferred  against  the  Duke 
at  his  trial,  that  which  determined  the  judgment  of 
the  High  Court,  related  to  the  acts  which  he  did  not 
deny,  and  for  which  he  pleaded  his  sovereign's 
pardon.   Unfortunately  for  himself,  in  his  reliance 
on  the  King's  faith,  he  had  scorned  the  prudent 
advice  of  the  Constable  Montmorenci  to  demand 
an  official  pardon  under  the  Great  Seal,  which 
could  have  been  produced  in  evidence ;  and  the 


16 


remorseless  policy  of  Stilly,  whichj  aimed  by  a 
terrible  example  to  strike  dismay  into  the  haughty 
and  turbulent  nobles  who  treated  him  with  open 
disdain_,  worked  on  the  jealous  fears  of  Henry, 
and  rendered  Biron's  confidence  in  his  master 
fatal  to  himself. 

Many  other  well-known  incidents  of  his  reign 
indicated,  though  in  a  less  tragical  way,  how 
greatly,  where  the  claims  of  past  service  and  tried 
friendship  clashed  with  a  present  purpose,  Henry 
was  prone  to  the  ignoble  vice  of  ingratitude. 

But  it  is  in  his  relations  with  the  fairer  half  of 
his  subjects  which  formed  not  the  least  important 
feature  in  the  history  of  his  reign,  and  brought 
him  into  disgraceful  collision  with  his  young  kins- 
man, the  Prince  of  Conde,  that  the  true  character 
of  this  king  is  most  clearly  seen.  In  truth,  it  is 
difficult  to  conceive  two  human  beings  more 
essentially  different  than  the  Henri  Quatre  of 
Romance,  the  soul  of  chivalry,  the  wise  and  mag- 
nanimous sovereign,  the  idol  of  the  brave  and  the 
fair,  and  the  Henri  Quatre,  mean-spirited,  tyran- 
nical, jealous,  infatuated,  supremely  ridiculous, 
who  has  been  sketched  by  the  friendly  pens  of 
Sully,  the  Princess  of  Conti,  Bassompierre,  and 
others,  among  his  most  intimate  associates.  The 
slave  of  his  passion  for  the  sex,  he  seems  never  to 
have  succeeded  in  gaining  the  love  or  respect  of  a 


17 

woman.  It  is  not  easy  to  say  whether  his  mar- 
riages  or  his  liaisons  reflect  more  discredit  on 
himself,  or  were  more  prolific  of  troubles  to  the 

State. 

His  first  wife,  the  beautiful  and  accomplished 
Margaret  of  Valois,  had  been  deeply  attached  in 
early  life  to  Henry,  Duke  of  Guise.     Charles  IX., 
her  brother,  incited  to  a  frantic  jealousy  of  his 
great  subject  by  the  arts  of  her  second  brother, 
the  Duke  of  Anjou,  threatened  to  kill  Guise  with 
his  own  hand  if  he  persisted  in  a  suit  in  which 
his  affections  were  engaged ;  and  is  said  to  have 
resorted  to  personal  violence  to  compel  his  sister 
to  a  union  which   she  loathed.     Despising  and 
detesting  a  husband  who   took   her  for  poHtical 
convenience,  and  then  in  order  to  secure  freedom 
in  the  pursuit   of   his  pleasures,  accorded  her 
similar  liberty  of  conduct,  Margaret  abandoned 
herself  to  shameless   excesses.       The   marriage, 
irregular  in  itself,  and  endured  with  repugnance, 
proved  unfruitful.    Henry  afterwards  wrung  from 
Margaret,  when  her  kindred  were  all  dead,  and 
her  friends  alienated  by  her  misconduct,  a  consent 
to  a  divorce,  by  threatening  her  with  a  public 
trial  for  the  profligacy  at  which  he  had  connived. 

His  second  wife,  Mary  of  Medicis,  was  a  woman 
of  high  spirit  and  quick  temper.  The  open 
insults  passed  on  her  by   her  husband  and  hi? 


18 


imperious  mistress,  the  Marchioness  of  Vemeuil, 
who  publicly  challenged  the  validity  of  her  mar- 
riage, provoked  her  beyond  endurance.  The 
Court  was  torn  by  angry  contentions.  Domestic 
grievances  generated  dangerous  political  cabals, 
and  the  almost  daily  task  of  allaying  the  mutual 
animosities  of  the  king,  his  wife  and  his  mistress, 
severely  taxed  the  patience  and  skill  of  Sully. 
Sounds  of  recrimination  and  violence  frequently 
burst  from  the  royal  apartments.  On  one  occasion 
Henry  rushed  undressed  from  his  wife^s  bedchamber 
to  complain  to  Sully  that  she  had  struck  him  in  the 
face,  and  to  concert  measures  with  his  minister 
for  obtaining  another  divorce.  So  notorious  were 
the  quarrels  of  the  royal  pair,  that  on  the  assassi- 
nation of  the  King,  the  crime  was  popularly 
attributed  to  the  joint  contrivance  of  Mary  of 
Medicis  and  her  former  rival,  the  Marchioness  of 
Verneuil,  whom  common  thirst  for  revenge  was 
supposed  to  have  united  for  his  destruction. 

The  lives  of  Henriette  de  Balzac,  Marchioness 
of  Yerneuil,  and  Gabrielle  d'Estrees,  Duchess  of 
Beaufort,  belong  to  history.  Both  regarded  Henry 
with  indifference ;  both  were  reluctantly  induced 
to  accept  a  disgraceful  position  under  pressure 
of  a  scandalous  abuse  of  the  royal  authority, 
tempered  by  distinct  promises  of  marriage. 
Grabrielle  loved  and  was  betrothed  to  the  hand- 


19 

some  Duke  of   Bellegarde,    one    of   the    great 
Catholic  nobles    who    had    remained  faithful  to 
Henry  III.  and  after  that  monarch's  death,  loyally 
supported  the  Beamais  as  legitimate  king.     Belle- 
garde,  in  the  unreserved  freedom    of    fanuliar 
intercourse,  indiscreetly  boasted  to  his  sovereign 
and  friend  of  Gabrielle's  unrivalled  beauty ;  and 
as  Henry  affected  scepticism  on  the  subject,  in- 
vited him  to  come  and  see  her.     Henry  came,  saw, 
and  was  conquered.     He  immediately  forbade  the 
marriage,  exiled  the   Duke,  silenced  the  remon- 
strances of    the  lady's  friends   with  threats  of 
vengeance,  and  by  every  ungenerous  and  every 
unholy  means  which  profligacy  could  suggest  or 
arbitrary  power  compass,  compelled  her  to  consent 
to  his  wishes.     She   bore  her   chains  for  years, 
doing  constant  violence  to  her  better  nature  and 
her  inclinations,  in  consequence  of  his  pledges  to 
make  her   queen   of  France   and  legitimate  her 
children.     If  ever  Henry    entertained    anything 
approaching  to  genuine  regard  for  a  human  being 
it  was  for  Gabrielle  d'Estr^es.     Her  death,  after 
horrible    and   protracted  agonies,   which   seized 
her  at  the  end  of  a  banquet   given  to  her  on 
Thursday  in  Holy  Week  by  the  celebrated  Zamet, 
a  low-born  Italian  proteg^  of  Catherine  of  Medicis, 
who,  making   the  crimes  and  vices  of  the  most 
infamous  court  of  modem  Europe  the  stepping- 


20 


stones  of  liis  fortune,  had  risen  to  be  the  greatest 
usurer  and  pander  of  his  time,  seemed  to  over- 
whelm her  lover  with  grief.  Henry  declared,  in 
a  touching  epistle  to  his  sister,  which  was  stained 
with  his  tears,  that  his  heart  was  for  ever  broken ; 
that  it  lay  buried  in  his  mistresses  tomb.  But 
when  Sully,  immediately  afterwards,  suggested  to 
him  that  Gabrielle's  death  released  him  from  the 
embarrassing  consequences  of  the  frequent  pro- 
mises of  marriage  he  had  made  to  her,  he  at  once 
became  cheerful.  All  the  circumstances  attending 
Gabrielle^s  death  pointed  to  a  foul  murder.  She 
had  repeatedly  exclaimed,  in  piteous  tones,  that 
she  was  poisoned.  Although  in  a  dying  state, 
she  had  insisted,  with  the  desperate  pertinacity  of 
extreme  terror,  on  being  removed  from  Zamet's 
house.  Yet  Henry  stifled  all  inquiry,  continued 
his  patronage  to  the  ill-famed  but  convenient 
Italian,  and,  before  three  weeks  had  expired,  was 
using  all  the  resources  of  force  and  fraud  to  win 
the  person  of  Henriette  de  Balzac. 

Henriette  was  a  clever  and  brilliant  coquette. 
She  knew  that  the  King  was  on  the  point  of 
obtaining  from  the  Pope  the  long-sought-for 
annulment  of  his  marriage  with  Margaret  of 
Valois;  and  she  aspired  to  be  Queen  of  France. 
Her  connexions  were  high  and  powerful ;  and, 
before  she  would  accept  Henry's  proposals,  she 


21 


exacted  from  him  a  written  promise,  regularly 
attested,  to  make  her  his  wife  on  condition  that 
she  bore  him  offspring  within  a  year.     She  per- 
formed her  part  of  the  compact.     He  violated  his 
without  scruple ;  compelled  the  surrender  of  the 
compromising    document    by    force  ;    but    was 
unable  to  prevent  the   outraged   feelings  of  the 
lady  and  her  kindred   from  raising  up  formidable 
troubles  against  his  own   peace  and  that  of  his 
kingdom  during  the  remainder    of  his  reign,  or 
the  shadow  of  illegitimacy  from  resting  on  his 
children  by  Mary  of  Medicis.     The  whole  history 
of  his  relations  with  his  two  mistresses ;  his  selfish 
tyranny;   his  doting  weakness;  the  tricks   they 
played  him  ;  their  futile  efforts   to   throw   off  a 
wearisome  vassalage ;  his   maudlin  tears  and  his 
tragic  airs  ;  his  ever  restless  jealousy,  displaying 
itself  now  in   mean   espionage,  now  in   acts   of 
oppression   towards   suspected    rivals ;  his    total 
want  of  faith  and   honour;  the  incredible  self- 
abasement  with  which  he  sacrificed  his  dignity  as 
a  man,  and  his  duties  as  a  sovereign,  in  vain  efforts 
to  propitiate   his   angry   mistresses ;    even  when 
softened  down  in  the  partial  pages  of  his  pane- 
gyrist Sully,  would  be  infinitely  amusing,  if  they 
did  not  form  one  of  the  most   astonishing   and 
humiliating^pictures  of  human  infirmity  that  the 
world  has  known. 


22 

But  his  conduct  towards  liis  young  cousin,  tlie 
Prince  of  Conde,  stamps  Henr/s  memory  with 
even  deeper  dishonour.      In  the  early  part  of  the 
year  1609,  there  appeared  at  Court,  in  a  ballet 
given  by  Mary  of  Medicis,   a  young  lady,  then 
about  sixteen,  of  incomparable  grace  and  beauty  ; 
Charlotte,  youngest   daughter  of  the  Constable 
Montmorenci.     The  portraits  of  her  that  exist  are 
disappointing  3  but  it  is  clear  from  the  enthusiastic 
description  of    Cardinal  Bentivoglio,   and    other 
less  grave  chroniclers   of  that   time,  that  nature 
had  endowed    her    with  extraordinary   gifts   of 
person  and  mind.     The  brilliancy  of  this  new 
star  dazzled  the  Court ;  and  Henry,  whose  amorous 
temperament  was  unchilled  by  the  frosts  of  nearly 
sixty  winters,  found  his  heart  in  a  flame.     Char- 
lotte  had  been  brought  up  in  almost  complete 
seclusion  by  her  aunt,  Diana  of  France,  Duchess 
of  Angouleme,  at  Vincennes  ;  but   the  fame  of 
her  charms  had  spread  abroad,  and  before   she 
reached  her  thirteenth  year,  her  father  had  been 
importuned  with  the  most  splendid  offers  for  her 
hand.    He  had  rejected  them  all  curtly ;  but  now, 
to  the  astonishment  of  every  one,  and  of  no  one 
more  than  the  fortunate  object  of  his  choice,  he 
proposed  her  as  a  wife,  with  an  enormous  dower, 
to  the  Marquis  of  Bassompierre,  the  most  brilliant 
of  adventurers,  whose  attractive    qualities    had 


1 1 


23 


taken  by   storm  the    eccentric    old  Constable's 
heart. 

Bassompierre  was  a  cadet  of  a  poor  family  of 
the  second  order  of  nobility  in  Lorraine;  his 
father  had  been  in  the  service  of  Henry,  Duke  of 
Guise.  About  ten  years  before  this  time,  he  had 
made  his  appearance  at  the  Court  of  France,  a 
stripling  of  twenty,  without  money  or  interest. 
But  he  was  one  of  the  handsomest  and  wittiest 
men  of  the  age,  adorned  with  all  the  graces  and 
accomplishments  of  a  perfect  courtier — brave, 
amiable,  and  politic.  His  shining  qualities  soon 
won  for  him  a  distinguished  place  in  the  favour 
of  the  King,  who  made  him  the  companion  of  all 
his  parties  of  pleasure ;  and  it  is  a  strong  testi- 
mony to  his  tact  and  prudence,  that  he  was  not  less 
the  favourite  of  Mary  of  Medicis.  Without  pos- 
sessing any  patrimony,  he  rivalled  in  magnificence 
and  profusion  the  greatest  nobles  of  the  kingdom. 
The  means  of  his  extravagance  were  supplied 
chiefly  by  his  extraordinary  luck  at  play.  He  re- 
lates in  his  memoirs  that  at  the  ceremony  of  the 
baptism  of  the  royal  children  in  the  year  1606,  his 
dress  cost  fourteen  thousand  crowns,  an  enormous 
sum  at  that  time.  When  he  gave  the  order  to 
his  tailor  his  whole  fortune  amounted  to  seven 
hundred  crowns,  but  by  the  end  of  a  month  he 
had  won  enough  to  pay  for  the  habit,  and  to 


m 


M  ' 


24 

purcliase  a  diamond-liilted  sword,  wluch  completed 

his  costume. 

Tlie  King,  seemingly  over-joyed  at  the  good 
fortune  of  his  boon  companion,  at  once  assented 
to  the  marriage.    But  the  connexions  of  the  proud 
house  of  Montmorenci  were  furious,  and  conspired 
to  break  it  off.     Henry^s  passion  for  the  young 
beauty  was  the  talk  of  the  whole  Court,  and  they 
sought  in  the  King^s  weakness  the  means  of  ac- 
comphshing  their  design.     It  was  privately  repre- 
sented to   him   that  the  handsome,  fascinating 
Bassompierre    would    infalhbly  win    Charlotte^s 
affections;  that  the  contemplated  union  would  be 
the  death-blow  of  his  own  hopes.     Before  the  day 
fixed  for  the  nuptials,  Henry,  one  morning  before 
rising,  summoned  his  favourite  to   his  bedside. 
With  abundance  of  sighs  and  tears,  he  confided 
to  the  astonished  lover,  as  his  dearest  friend,  his 
guilty  designs  upon  this  friend^s  affianced  bride. 
In  pathetic  accents,  he   confessed  his  love  for 
Charlotte,  and  his  intention  to  reserve  her  to  be 
the  comfort  and  solace  of  his  old  age.     He  said 
that  if  the  match  proceeded,  he  and  Bassompierre 
would  be   certain  to   quarrel ;    that  he  was  re- 
solved to  introduce  the  young  lady  into  his  own 
family  by  giving  her  in  marriage  to  the  Prince  of 
Conde,  who,  caring  nothing  for  women,  and  de- 
voting all  his  hours  to  the  chase,  would  not  be  a 


25 


bar  to  his  happiness.  The  sudden  clouding  over 
of  the  splendid  fortune  which  had  dawned  upon 
him,  for  a  few  moments  overwhelmed  Bassom- 
pierre with  grief  and  despair.  But  he  reflected 
that  ineffectual  opposition  would  only  ruin  all  his 
prospects  in  life.  Recovering  himself  quickly,  he 
repHed,  with  the  best  grace  he  could,  that  he  had 
long  passionately  desired  an  opportunity  of  evinc- 
ing his  devotion  and  gratitude  to  his  master ;  an 
adequate  occasion  now  presented  itself,  and  he 
gladly  sacrificed  all  his  happiness  in  life  to  pro- 
mote his  sovereign's  felicity.  Henry  embraced 
the  unfortunate  courtier  tenderly,  and  forthwith 
commanded  the  marriage  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Montmorenci  with  the  Prince  of  Conde. 

The  young  Prince  and  the  Constable  both  de' 
murred.  The  former  was  of  a  very  shy  reserved 
temper,  and  was  painfully  sensitive  regarding  the 
cloud  that  rested  on  his  birth.  The  King's 
notorious  admiration  of  the  young  lady  excited 
his  distrust ;  but  a  threat  of  imprisonment  in  the 
Bastille  frightened  him  into  acquiescence.  An  in- 
come of  one  hundred  thousand  livres  was  settled  on 
liim  by  the  Crown,  and  the  marriage  was  celebrated 
at  Chant  illy.  A  few  days  afterwards,  the  Prince 
and  his  wife  were  ordered  to  appear  at  some  Court 
festivities;  and  Henry,  discarding  all  the  restraints 
of  decency,  openly  displayed  his  passion  for  the 

VOL.  I.  c 


26 

Princess  in  the  most  extravagant  fasliion.  He 
indulged  in  such  juvenile  foUies ;  he  played  such 
fantastic  pranks,  decked  out  in  scented  collars  and 
gorgeous  satin  sleeves ;  he  pubhcly  raved  in  such 
wild,  incoherent  raptures,  that  Charlotte  fondly 
believed  his  love  for  her  had  deprived  him  of 
reason.  Her  husband,  frantic  with  rage  and 
shame,  ordered  her  to  leave  the  Court;  Henry 
ordered  her  to  remain.  Then  came  scandalous 
scenes  of  recrimination  between  the  kinsmen,  and 
tyranny  on  the  part  of  the  King.  He  stopped 
Condi's  income,  reproached  him  with  the  illegiti- 
macy of  his  birth,  and  deliberated  about  shutting 
hiTn  up  in  the  Bastille. 

At  length,  through  the  interference  of  the  Con- 
stable, the  Prince  was  able  to  remove  his  wife  to 
the  Chateau  of  Muret  in  Picardy,  and  place  her  in 
charge  of  his  mother.  Charlotte  does  not  seem 
to  have  entertained  a  very  hvely  sense  of  grati- 
tude for  her  husband's  efforts  in  her  behalf. 
Henry  had  calculated  rightly  that  the  union  was 
not  likely  to  be  cemented  by  conjugal  affection. 
She  was  pleased  by  the  admiration  she  excited,  and 
shuddered  at  the  gloomy  solitude  of  Muret,  and 
the  uncongenial  companionship  of  her  mother-in- 
law.  Her  royal  adorer  followed  her  in  hot  pursuit. 
On  St.  Hubert's  Day  the  two  Princesses  came 
forth  to  witness  a  great^  hunt  in  honour  of  the 


27 


festival.  Charlotte's  attention  was  soon  attracted 
by  a  piqtieur,  with  a  long  beard  and  a  large  patch 
over  one  of  his  eyes,  who  was  stationed  at  a  little 
distance,  with  two  dogs  in  a  leash,  and  gazed 
upon  her  intently.  A  closer  scrutiny  enabled  her 
to  recognise  the  King  under  his  disguise.  The 
Princesses  afterwards  repaired  for  luncheon  to  a 
neighbouring  chateau ;  and  Henry,  by  the  conni- 
vance of  the  hostess,  feasted  his  eye^  on  the  object 
of  his  adoration  through  a  small  hole  cut  in  the 
tapestry  of  the  saloon.  He  then  rashly  shifted 
his  position  to  the  window  of  an  opposite  apart- 
ment, and  began  gesticulating  like  a  madman. 
But  the  Dowager  Princess  caught  sight  of  him, 
carried  off  her  charge  in  great  indignation,  and 
informed  her  son  of  the  Kiag's  pursuit. 

Conde  saw  that  his  only  safety  lay  in  immediate 
and  secret  flight  from  the  kingdom.  He  pre- 
tended to  his  wife  that  he  was  about  to  return 
with  her  to  court,  for  the  accouchement  of  Mary 
of  Medicis,  in  obedience  to  a  royal  summons;  and, 
placing  her,  all  joyful,  in  a  coach,  surrounded  by 
his  retainers,  took  the  road  to  the  Low  Countries. 
The  vehicle  broke  down  on  the  journey;  but  Cond^, 
allowing  the  princess  scarcely  a  moment  for  re- 
pose, made  her  mount  behind  him  on  a  pillion, 
and  riding  th(^  whole  of  a  wild  November  night 
through  torrents  of  rain,  succeeded  in  placing  her, 

c  2 


28 

half  dead  with  cold  and  hunger,  and  devoured  by 
chagrin,  beyond  the  reach  of  his  venerable  rival. 

The  rapidity  of  his  flight  saved  him  from  an 
unexpected     danger.       At    the    beginning    of 
the  journey  the    guide,   suspecting    its    object, 
despatched  his  son  in  all  haste  to  Paris  to  inform 
the  King.     The  messenger  arrived  late  at  night 
at  the  Louvre,  while  Henry  was  at  play  with  some  ' 
of  his  courtiers.    When  the  news  was  whispered 
in  his  ear  he  started  up  in  great  agitation,  and 
caUed  Bassompierre  aside.     "  Mon  ami/'  he  said, 
"  I  am  lost.     Our  man  has  lured  his  wife  into  a 
wood  either  to  murder  her  or  carry  her  off."     He 
then  rushed  off  to  his  wife's  bedroom,  and  sum- 
moned all  the  ministers  to  attend  him.     Mary  of 
Medicis  had  a  few  days  before  given  birth  to  a 
daughter,  and  was  still  an  invaUd.     When  Sully 
arrived  from  the  Arsenal,  in  very  bad  humour  at 
the  untimely  disturbance  of  his  slumbers,  he  found 
Henry  pacing  his  wife's  room  with  disordered  air 
and  incoherent  mutterings,  like  a  man  distracted. 
The  ministers  stood  in  a  row  against  the  wall  con- 
founded   and    aghast,    proffering    contradictory 
counsels,  all  of  which  the  King  ordered  to  be 
immediately  carried  out.     The  poor  Queen  was 
looking  on  from  her  bed,  a  helpless  spectator  of  a 
scene  which  was  in  itself  one  of  the  grossest  out- 
rages that  could  be  offered  to  her.    Henry,  rushing 


29 

up  to  Sully,  told  him  what  had  happened,  and  was 
coolly  upbraided  by  the  virtuous  and  grim-visaged 
minister  for  not  having  shut  up  the  Prince  in  the 
Bastille.  Then  orders  were  despatched  to  the 
garrisons  on  the  Flemish  frontier  for  the  arrest  of 
the  fugitives ;  and  so  rapidly  were  these  commands 
conveyed  that  Conde  did  not  cross  the  frontier  a 
moment  too  soon. 

The  Archduke  Albert,  son  of  the  Emperor 
Maximihan  II.,  and  his  wife  Isabella,  daughter  of 
Philip  II.  of  Spain,  were  at  this  time  joint 
Sovereigns  of  the  Low  Countries.  It  was  known 
to  them  that  the  French  monarch  had  completed 
his  formidable  preparations  for  a  war  against  the 
house  of  Austria;  and  therefore  the  appeal  which 
the  French  Prince  addressed  to  them  for  protec- 
tion, on  entering  their  dominions,  was  extremely 
embarrassing,  as  being  likely  to  furnish  a  pretext 
for  aggression.  However,  chiefly  through  the 
influence  of  Isabella,  permission  was  accorded  to 
Conde  to  place  his  wife  under  the  charge  of  his 
brother-in-law,  the  Prince  of  Orange,  at  Brussels; 
and  after  some  difficulty  and  delay  he  was  allowed 
to  repair  thither  himself.  Henry  sent  de  Praslin, 
the  captain  of  his  Guards,  and  afterwards  the 
Marquis  of  Coeuvres,  on  special  missions  to 
the  Flemish  Court,  to  persuade  his  injured 
•cousin  to  return  with  his  wife;  and  in  case   of 


30 

refusal,  to  proclaim  Hm  a  traitor,  and  require  the 
surrender  of  tlie  exiles  from  tlie  Arcliduke  under 
threat  of  war.     Cond^,  proving  deaf  to  solicitation 
and  menace,  Coeuvres  demanded  an  audience  of 
the  Flemish  Sovereigns,  and  insisted  in  peremp- 
tory terms  that  the  Princess  at  least  should  be 
delivered  up  to    him.       The  Archduke  Albert 
politely  excused  himself  from  separating  a  wife 
from  her  husband ;  but  the  spirit  of  Isabella  the 
Catholic,  flashed  out  in  the  response  of  the  Arch- 
duchess.    "  I  think,"  she  said,  "  such  a  demand  a 
very  ludicrous  and  unusual  article  in  the  instruc- 
tions of  an  ambassador.     I  am  a  Spanish  woman, 
and  do  not  deem  myself  obliged  to  act  as  pander 
to    the  unrighteous    passions    of    your    King." 
Without  waiting  for  a  reply  she  turned  her  back 
on  the  rebuked  Coeuvres,  and  left  the  room.     The 
French  envoy  then,  with  the  connivance  of  the 
young  Princess,  arranged  a  plan  for  carrying  her 
off  from  the  Hotel  of  the  Prince  of  Orange.   The 
plot  was  skilfully  contrived,  and  would  probably 
have  succeeded  had  it  not  been  betrayed  by  Mary 
of  Medicis  to  the  Flemish  Embassy  at  Paris.  The 
result  was  that  the  Archduchess,  under  pretext  of 
doing  honour  to  her  guest,  invited  her  to  take  up 
her  abode  in  the  Royal  Palace,  and  assigned  her 
apartments  adjoining  her  own.     The  grief   and 
mortification  of   Madame  de  Cond^  were  great. 


31 

Henry  was  frantic.     He  had  Conde  attainted  and 
sentenced  to  death  as  a  traitor  by  the  Parliament 
of  Paris.     He  wrote  with  his  own  hand  intem- 
perate despatches  to  his  representatives  at  foreign 
Courts,  in  which,  to  the  especial  amusement  of  his 
own  subjects,  he  expatiated  in  the  bitterest  terms 
on  the  mutinous  spirit  and  the  ingratitude  of  the 
first  Prince  of  the  Blood.     And  so  threatening 
were  his   demonstrations    against    the    Flemish 
Government  that   Cond6  found  it  expedient  to 
retire  to  Milan,  leaving  his  wife  under  the  guar- 
dianship of  the  true-hearted  Isabella.     When  her 
husband  had  departed,  Chariotte,  at  the  instigation 
of   the  French  agents— who  were  allowed  free 
access  to  her— signed  a  petition  to  the  Pope  for 
the  dissolution  of  her  marriage.     It  must  be  said 
in  her  favour  that  the  Prince's  disposition  and 
appearance  were   eminently  fitted  to  repel  the 
affection  of  flattered  young  beauty ;  and  that  she 
was  led  to  beheve  that,  should  her  suit  prove 
successful,  Henry  would  repudiate  Mary  of  Medicis 
and  make  her  Queen.     But  the  murder  of  the 
French  monarch  by  Ravailla<;,  on  the  14th  of  May, 
1610,  in  one  of  the  narrow  streets  of  Paris,  dis- 
pelled her  ambitious  day-dreams.      This  tragic 
event— otie  of  the  strangest  fulfihnents  known  of 
the  predictions  of  astrologers— secured  the  peace 


Pi 


i 


32 


of  Europe  for  another  decade.     Though  he  had 
not  issued  any  declaration  of  war,  Henry,  when 
he  fell,  was  on  the  eve  of  setting  out  to  execute 
the  ambitious  and  somewhat  quixotic  designs  he 
had  laboriously  and,  as  he  thought,  secretly  matured 
for  the  destruction  of  the  house  of  Austria.  He  had 
concluded  alliances  for  the  partition  of  the  expected 
spoils  with  Savoy,  Venice,   and  the   Protestant 
States  of  Northern  Germany.      Two  large  and 
well-appointed   French   armies   only   waited  the 
word  of  command  to  march  into  Germany  and 
Italy;   and  the  enormous   treasure   amassed   by 
Sully's  oppressive  measures  of  finance  was  suffi- 
cient to  support  an  obstinate  struggle.     Patriotic 
French  writers  have  lamented  this  monarch's  un- 
timely fate  as    a  national   calamity,   in  having 
delayed  the  ascendency  which,  fifty  years  later, 
their  nation  acquired  in  Europe.     But  it  was  most 
fortunate  for  France  that  her  part  in  a  great 
European  conflict  was  deferred  for  twenty  years. 
The  Spanish  infantry  was  still  invincible.  Neither 
Henry  nor  any  of  his  generals  was  at  all  capable 
of  coping  with  Spinola ;  nor  was  there,  as  yet,  a 
Gustavus  Adolphus  in  the  North  to  scatter  the 
disciplined  armies  of  the  Emperor.     The  founda- 
tion   of    French    supremacy    required    a    more 
favourable  conjuncture  of  circumstances,  and  the 


83 

agency  of  splendid  and  daring  genius;  the  political 
genius  of  Cardinal  Richelieu,  and  the  military 
genius  of  the  Great  Conde. 

After  the  death  of  Henry  TV.,  Cond6  returned 
to  France,  and  played  a  prominent  part  in  the 
troubles  that  agitated  the  Regency  of  Mary  of 
Medicis.     He  was  a  prince  of  considerable  ability, 
and   of   a  sagacity   almost  unerring  to  discern, 
amidst  the  turmoil   of  faction,  the  course  most 
conducive  to  his  own  interests.     Inheriting  a  very 
scanty  patrimony,  the  great  purpose  of  his  life,  of 
his  habitual   adulation  of  a  strong  government, 
and  his  habitual  caballing  against  one  which  was 
weak,  was  the  accumulation  of  wealth  and  digni- 
ties.    And  so  skilfully  did  he  steer  his  fortunes 
amidst  the  political  shoals  and  quicksands  of  the 
perilous  times  in  which  he  lived,  so  sedulously  did 
he  shift  his  sails  for  every  favourable  breeze,  and 
so  well  was   a   grasping   ambition  seconded  by 
economy  which  bordered  on  parsimony,  that,  long 
before  his  death,  he  held  conjointly  many  of  the 
greatest  posts  in  the  kingdom,  and  had  amassed 
a  colossal  fortune. 

His  prudence,  however,  was  not  always  able  to 
ward  off  the  reverses  which  chequer  even  the  most 
successful  careers.  In  1616  he  was  arrested  at 
the  Louvre,  by  order  of  Mary  of  Medicis,  and 
flung  into  the  Bastille;  from  which  fortress  he  was 

c  5 


34 

afterwards  transferred  to  the  Castle  of  Vincennes. 
Up  to  tliis  time,  tlie  feud  witli  his  wife  liad  been 
festering ;  her  suit  for  a  divorce  was  still  pending 
in  the  Ecclesiastical  Courts.  But  the  Princess  no 
sooner  learned  that  misfortune  had  overwhelmed 
her  husband  than  she  hastened  to  his  side.  Com- 
passion awakened  in  her  breast  the  true  instincts 
of  a  wife,  and  taught  her  to  cherish  ties  she  had 
striven  with  such  impatience  to  rend  asunder. 
The  Regent  would  only  permit  her  access  to  the 
Prince  on  condition  that  she  remained  to  share 
his  captivity.  She  consented  to  this  sacrifice 
without  a  murmur,  and,  burying  her  youth  and 
beauty  for  three  years  to  brighten  the  gloom  of 
his  prison,  won  as  much  of  his  regard  as  it  was 
possible  for  a  woman  to  win. 

Of  several  children,  who  were  the  fruit  of  this 
reconciliation,  the  eldest  surviving  son,  Louis  of 
Bourbon,  Duke  of  Enghien,  was  born  on  the  7th 
September,  1621 .  His  constitution  was  originally 
exceedingly  feeble ;  but  judicious  nurture  in  the 
pure  air  of  the  Castle  of  Montrond  in  Berri 
strengthened  it  to  such  a  degree,  that  in  after  life 
he  was  capable  of  bearing  the  most  extraordinary 
fatigues.  From  his  early  childhood  there  were 
discerned  in  him  flashes  of  the  quick  genius  and 
the  haughty  temper  that  characterised  his  man- 
hood.    In  the  Jesuit  College  at  Bourges,  where 


35 


> 


he  was  educated,  he  is  said  to  have  excelled  aU  his 
companions  in    scholastic   and   scientific  attain- 
ments,  as  well  as  in  manly  accomplishments.    The 
house  which  he  inhabited  in  the  town,  built  by 
Jacques  Coeur,  the  famous  financier  of  the  reign 
of  Charles  VII.,  was  a  magnificent  rehc  of  feudal 
architecture,  and  bore  on  its  front  in  letters  of 
stone  the  motto  of  the  minister, ''  A  coeur  vaillant 
rien  impossible,''  No  doubt  this  noble  sentiment  fed 
the  aspiring  fanciesof  the  future  hero.     In  the  year 
1639,  when  yet  but  eighteen  years  old,  Enghien 
was  summoned  to  take  part  in  public  affairs.    The 
"  Thirty  Years'  War ''  was  raging  in  Germany. 
France,  under  the  guidance  of  Cardinal  Richelieu, 
had    alUed    herself    with    Sweden    against   the 
Emperor  and,  later  on,  with  Holland    against 
Spain.     The  Prince  of  Conde,  whose  craving  for 
mmtary  distinction  far    exceeded    his    military 
capacity,  having  obtained  the  command  of  the 
French  army  of  RoussiUon,  delegated  the  govern- 
ment of  Burgundy  to  his  son.     In  the  following 
year,  the  young  Duke  made  his  first  campaign 
under  Marshal  La  Meillerai,  in  Flanders,  with 
great  distinction.     On  returning  to  Paris,  he  went  . 
to  Ruel  to  visit  Cardinal  RicheHeu. 

This  great  minister  was  now  at  the  summit  of 
power  and  glory.  He  had  apparently  trodden  out 
the  last  embers  of  opposition  in  France.     All 


36 

classes,  from  the  King  to  the  peasant,  bowed  to 
his  resistless  will.  His  colossal  schemes  of  policy 
had  already  been  crowned  with  splendid  success. 
At  home,  he  had  crushed  with  an  iron  hand  the 
military  republic  which  the  Huguenots  had  estab- 
lished in  the  heart  of  the  kingdom,  and  shattered 
the  feudal  dominion  of  the  great  nobles.  Abroad, 
the  fortunate  star  of  the  house  of'  Austria  had 
grown  pale  in  the  blaze  of  his  genius.  He  had 
heard  much  of  Enghien's  ability.  To  test  it,  he 
engaged  him  for  several  hours  in  a  discussion  on 
the  most  difficult  questions — religion,  war,  politics, 
government ;  and  his  reported  comment  on  the 
conversation  is  so  flattering  to  his  visitor,  that  the 
very  warmth  of  the  panegyric  suggests  doubts  as 
to  its  authenticity.  He  is  said  to  have  remarked 
to  his  favourite  Chavigny,  that  Enghien  would  be 
the  greatest  man  of  his  time,  perhaps  of  any 
time,  in  all  things.  It  is  certain,  however,  that 
the  young  prince  made  a  most  favourable  impres- 
sion on  him.  It  was  a  great  object  of  his  ambition 
to  ally  his  family  with  the  royal  blood  of  France. 
The  Prince  of  Cond^,  with  the  keen  instinct  of 
self-aggrandisement  peculiar  to  himself,  divined 
this  wish,  and  humbly  besought  the  all-powerful 
minister  to  consent  to  a  marriage  between  his 
niece  Claire  de  Maill^  Breze  and  Enghien.  Claire, 
who  was  but  thirteen  years  old,  and  child-like  for 


^li 


37 

her  age,  inspired  Enghien  with  a  feeling  of  con- 
temptuous aversion.  But  the  reluctant  bridegroom 
did  not  dare  to  offer  remonstrance,  and,  notwith- 
standing the  tender  years  of  the  young  lady,  the 
marriage  was  celebrated  in  the  King's  chapel  in 

February,  1641. 

The  year  following  Enghien  accompanied  Louis 
13th  in  the  successful  campaign  which  added 
Roussillon  to  the  French  crown.  When  the  armies 
had  retired  into  winter  quarters,  he  became,  it  ia 
said,  the  chief  actor  in  a  ludicrous  interlude, 
which  furnishes  an  amusing  illustration  of  the 
remarkable  ascendency  of  Richelieu. 

In  passing  through  Lyons,  on  his  return  to  the 
capital,  he  had  neglected  to  pay  his  respects  to  the 
Cardinal   Archbishop   of  the   city,   who  was  the 
brother  of  the  Prime  Minister.     The  latter,  when 
Enghien  next  went  to  visit  him  at  Ruel,  inquired 
after  his  relative ;  and  the  Duke  was  obliged  to 
confess  his  sin  of  omission.     Richeheu  made  no 
remark  at  the  moment,  but  afterwards  mentioned 
the  slight  in  angry  terms  to  the  Prince  of  Cond^. 
The  Prince,  terrified  to  the  last  degree,  ordered 
'  his  son    instantly   to   repair  the    neglect;    and 
Enghien,  in  obedience  to  the  paternal  injunction, 
started  off  without  delay  to   Lyons— a  journey 
of  two  hundred  leagues,  over  execrable  roads, 
rendered    almost    impassable    by    the    rains  of 


38 


autumn.  The  Arclibishopj  having  been  sea- 
sonably forewarned  of  tbis  pilgrimage,  seized, 
perhaps,  with  more  than  usual  compassion  for 
his  hungry  flock,  or  anxious  to  escape  so  much 
honour,  considerately  set  out  for  Marseilles.  Here, 
at  the  utmost  verge  of  the  arch-diocese,  he  re- 
ceived his  distinguished  visitor  with  a  truly  edify- 
ing humihty.  When  Enghien  had  returned  to 
Paris  from  his  penitential  mission,  Richelieu, 
labouring  under  a  second  access  of  fraternal  soli- 
citude, renewed  his  inquiries ;  but  on  learning 
from  such  an  excellent  authority  as  the  son  of  the 
First  Prince  of  the  Blood  that  the  Archbishop 
was  in  perfect  health,  he  appears  to  have  recovered 
his  wonted  composure. 

At  the  end  of  the  same  year  the  great  Cardinal 
died,  worn  out  by  the  attacks  of  an  excruciating 
malady.  On  his  death-bed  he  recommended 
Cardinal  Mazarin  to  Louis  XIII.  as  his  successor ; 
and  Mazarin,  in  order  to  secure  his  unstable 
position  by  the  powerful  support  of  the  House  of 
Conde,  obtained  for  its  young  heir  the  command 
of  the  army  which  was  opposed  to  the  Spaniards 
on  the  Flemish  frontier.  Enghien,  having  thus 
attained  the  great  object  of  his  young  ambition, 
set  out  early  in  the  year  1643  for  the  scene  of 
action,  a  field  on  which  he  was  to  reap  immortal 
glory. 


39 


The  empire  which  the  Spaniards  reared  during 
the  15th  and  16th  centuries,  was,  perhaps,  the 
most  splendid  and  far-spreading  that  the  world 
has  ever  seen.     It  comprised  the  most  beautiful, 
flourishing,  and  civilized  regions  of  Europe.     It 
spread  over  rich  and  extensive  islands,  breathing 
the  fragrance  and  bright  with  the  glowing  vege- 
tation of  a  tropical  clime  ;  some  of  which,  until 
the  close  of  the  15th  century,  had  slept  in  virgin 
beauty,  still  fresh  from  the  hand  of  Nature,  in 
the  embrace  of  an  unknown  ocean.     Aud  beyond 
this  ocean  it  extended  over  boundless  reahns  of  a 
new  world,  the  wealth  and  magnificence  of  which 
were  hardly  exaggerated  by  popular  fancy  that 
pictured  them  paved  with  gems,   flowing  with 
rivers  of  gold,  realising  the  enchanted  dreams  of 
Eastern  poets.     Every  sea  of   which  the  enter- 
prise of  Europe  had  made  a  pathway  was  subject 
to  Spanish  sway.     It  was  the  Castilian  who  first 
uttered  the  proud  boast  that  on  the  dominions  of 
his  sovereign  the  sun  never  set.     Profound  states- 
manship and  consummate  military  skill  were  the 
architects  of  this  splendid  fabric  3  as  they  had  built 
up  other  vast  empires  long  crumbled  into  dust. 
In  truth,  not  even  Rome,  in  her  palmiest  days, 
produced,  within  an  equal  period,  a  larger  number 
of  great  public  men  than  the  Spanish  Monarchy 
could  show  during  the  glorious  reigns  of  Ferdinand 


r 


A 


40 

and  Isabella  tlie  Catholic,  Charles  I.,  and  Philip 
II.  Standing  out  in  brighter  radiance  from  the 
illustrious  throng,  are  the  undying  forms  of 
the  Emperor-King,  Gonsalvo  of  Cordova,  Chris- 
topher Columbus  and  Hernan  Cortes,  Cardinals 
Zimenes  and  Granvelle,  Alva  and  Pescara,  Don 
John  of  Austria,  the  type  of  Christian  heroism, 
Alexander  Farnese,  the  type  of  the  finished 
warrior  and  statesman.  And  Spain  can  point  with 
pride  to  what  Rome  never  possessed,  a  splendid 
original  literature  and  a  splendid  school  of  art. 

But,  in  addition  to  the  genius  for  command,  and 
the  practical  energy  which  are  common  in  a  greater 
or  less  degree  to  all  conquering  races,  there  was 
in  the  Spanish  Monarchy  a  peculiar  and  vital 
element,  which  constituted  at  once  its  strength 
and  its  idiosyncrasy.  This  was  the  spirit  of 
enthusiasm,  rehgious  and  romantic,  which  had 
informed  its  growth,  and  which  vivified  its  matu- 
rity. For  more  than  eight  centuries  the  peninsula 
had  been  the  battle-ground  of  the  Crescent  and 
the  Cross,  the  theatre  of  a  long  crusade.  In  the 
7th  century  the  Arabs  crossing  over  from  Africa, 
overturned  the  kingdom  of  the  Goths,  and 
estabUshed  on  its  ruins  the  magnificent  Empire  of 
the  Western  Caliphs.  Christianity  and  Gothic 
freedom,  driven  from  the  plains,  retired  into  the 
Northern  Sierras,  and  throned  in  these  "  eternal 


41 

palaces  of  nature,"  breathed  indomitable  valour 
into  generations  of  heroes,  who  descended  year 
after  year  to  maintain  a  desperate  struggle  for 
their  country  and  their  God.     From  the  day  on 
which  the  standard  of  Don  Roderick  was  cloven 
down  on  the  banks  of  the  Guadelete,  to  that  on 
which  the  standard  of   Ferdinand  and  Isabella 
floated  by  the  side  of  the  Cross  from  the  walls  of 
the  Alhambra,  the  Holy  War  raged  with  Uttle  in- 
terruption.    During  this  long  period  the  sublime 
frenzy,  bom  of  burning  faith  and  restless  daring, 
which,  seizing  at  intervals,  like  an  intermittent 
fever,  on  colder  nations  of  Europe,  had  whitened 
the  plains  of  Asia  Minor,  and  the   Syrian  and 
African  deserts,  with  the  bones  of  myriads  of 
warrior-pilgrims,  was  in  the   Spaniard  but  the 
natural  pulsation  of  life.     His  whole  career  was  a 
combat  for   glory  and  the   Cross.     In  him  the 
spirit  of  chivaby  found  its  grandest  and  purest 
embodiment.     He  lived  in  an  ideal  world— in  the 
charmed  land  of  Romance.     Even  the  common 
incidents  of  war,  touched  by  the  magic  hues  of 
his  fancy,  were  invested  with  an  unreal  aspect ; 
while  his  bold,  imaginative  temperament,  kindled 
by  peril  and  exalted  by  faith,  indued  him  with 
power  to  accomplish,  in  his  long  struggle  with  the 
Moors,  feats  which  read  on  the  sober  page  of 
history  like  the  myths  of  heroic  fable.     And  after 


42 

Grenada  had  fallen  before  tlie  arms  of  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella,  this  adventurous  spirit  and  this  fervid 
zeal  sought  out  and  found  a  wider  field  of  action. 
Little  bands  of  warriors,  bearing  the  banner  of 
the   Cross,  launched   out  upon  the  bosom  of  a 
trackless  ocean,  and  discovered  and  conquered  for 
Catholicity  and   Spain  reabns  richer   and  more 
vast  than  had  mocked  the  dreams  of  Alexander. 
It  was  soon  apparent,  too,  in  European  warfare, 
that  no  other  troops  could  withstand  the  shock  of 
battalions,  in  which  the  fierce  enthusiasm  of  the 
crusader,  curbed  by  a  perfect  discipHne,  had  mel- 
lowed into  the  calm  feeling  of  invincibility  in- 
spired by  a  hundred  victories.     Wherever  the 
Spaniards  fought  they  conquered;  and  in  fi% 
years  after  the  downfall  of  Grenada  they  had  won 
the  most  splendid  empire  that  the  world  had  seen 
since  the  Goth  had  scaled  the  Alps,  and  the  Hun 
had  stalled  his  war  steed  in  the  palaces  of  Ca3sar. 
The  great  empires  of  the  earth  have  each  had 
a  pecuhar  mission :  each  has  been  an  instrument 
fashioned  by  a  Divine  hand  for  the  achievement 
of  some  special  design,  accomplished  by  the  force 
of  its  own  natural  development.     The  events  of 
the  16th   century  called  into   play,  in   all  their 
vigour,  the  characteristic  genius  and  the  matured 
energies  of  the  Spanish  monarchy. 

The  16th  century  was  for  the  Catholic  church 


43 

a  period  of  marvellous  peril,  and  still  more  mar- 
vellous triumph.      Century  after  century  had  the 
storms  of  the  world  raged  in  wild  fury  around 
the  chair  of  Peter ;   but  never  since  the  terrible 
times  when  the  Christian  slave  slunk  tremblingly 
at  night  from  out  of  the  marble  palaces  of  Im- 
perial  Rome,   to   worship   amidst   the  bones  of 
martyrs  in  the  gloom  of  the  Catacombs,  had  ita 
deep  foundations  been  assailed  by  so  rude  a  tem- 
pest.    At  once,  from  every  point  of  the  horizon, 
the  wide  ruin  burst  upon  it.     North,  South,  East, 
and  West,  hereditary  foes,  or  revolted  subjects, 
the  Christian  and  the  Infidel,  conspired  its  over- 
throw.    In   Germany,  the  Reformation,  arising 
like  a  wintry  torrent  which  leaps  forth  from  a 
scanty  spring  and  gathers  volume  as  it  rushes  on 
rolled  its  turbid  tide  over  the  greater  part  of 
civilized  Europe,  until  its  baffled  waves  surged 
against  the  impassable  barriers  of  the  Alps  and 
the  Pyrenees.     In  the  East,  Solyman  the  Magni- 
ficent, the  greatest  of  the  able  and  warlike  line 
that  filled  the  throne  of  Mahomet  II.,  conquered 
Hungary,    captured    Rhodes,   and    avowed    the 
design  of  planting  the  standard  of  the  Prophet  on 
the  Palatine.     From  the  South,  Barbary  Corsairs 
ravaged  with  impunity  the  beautiful  shores  of 
Campania,  and    swept  shrieking    peasants    into 
captivity  from  beneath  the  walls  of  Rome.     At 


11 


44 

one  time  it  seemed  well-mgh  certain,  humanly 
speaking,    that    victorious    Protestantism    must 
trample  the  Papacy  under  foot.     For    a    con- 
siderable period,  it  was  probable  that  the  lapse  of 
a  single  year  might  see  the  Crescent  glittering 
above    the  ruins  of   St.   Peter's.      But    to    tha 
CathoHc  the  event  of  this  mortal  conflict  only 
furnished  another  proof  of  the  weakness  of  human 
power,    and    the    folly   of  human  policy,  when 
directed  against  a  supernatural  institution,  built 
and  sustained  by  Divine  hands.     It  confirmed  his 
belief  that  there  is  in  the  bosom  of  Catholicity  a 
spring  of  immortal  life  which   neither  external 
force  nor  internal  corruption  can  destroy.     The 
sacrilegious  hand  that  would  break  up  the  foun- 
tain causes  it  to  flow  in  purer  and  more  abundant 
channels.     Gaudy  weeds,  nourished  by  the  foul 
breath  of  the  world,  may,  indeed,  for  a  time, 
mantle  and  choke  it  with  their  rank  luxuriance ; 
but  the  keen  blast  of  adversity  shrivels  them  up, 
and  the  living  waters  leap  forth  again,  bright  and 
joyous,  an  eternal  source  of  youth  and  vigour. 
The   Church,   quivering   in   every  member,   but 
aroused  from  a  fatal  lethargy  by  the  shock  of  so 
many  enemies,  armed  herself  with  her  keenest 
weapons.     The  efforts  of  her  faithful  children  first 
stemmed,  then  rolled  back  the  tide  of  destruction 
that  had  threatened  to  overwhelm  her.     And  in 


45 

this  terrible  struggle  her  foremost  champions  in 
spiritual  warfare,  as  on  the  field  of  battle,  were 
Spaniards ;  the  great  Spanish  monarchy  was  her 
right  arm  and  her  shield.     At  the  danger  of  the 
Church  the  old  crusading   spirit   which  had  so 
often  kindled  the  Spaniard's  blood  into  fire  leaped 
with  electric  power  through  every  rank,  from  the 
peasant  to  the  King.      Spain  drove  back  Protest- 
antism in  France  and  the  Netherlands,  and  gave 
the  mightiest  impulse  to  the  great   Catholic  re- 
action, which  advanced  with  victorious  banner  to 
the  borders  of  Scandinavia.    From  her  ports  went 
forth  the  illustrious  Captain  and  the  bulk  of  the 
great  Armada  that  shattered  the  Ottoman  power 
at  Lepanto.     And  it  was  a  Spaniard,  at  once  the 
truest  representative  of  the  religious  spirit  of  his 
race,  with  its   lofty   enthusiasm,  its  disciplined 
strength,  and  its   indomitable  energy,  and  the 
grandest  religious  figure  of  modern  times,  who 
founded  the  order  of  Jesus,  the  history  of  which 
is  the  history  of  the  triumphs  and  the  reverses 
of  the  Catholic  Church  in  every  region  of  either 
hemisphere. 

Between  this  great  monarchy,  from  its  earliest 
consolidation,  and  the  neighbouring  kingdom  of 
France,  there  had  existed  an  intense  national 
rivalry.  At  first  the  conflict  was  not  unequal. 
The  struggles  of  the  two  nations  for  superiority 


46 

deluged  a  large  part  of  civilized  Europe  witli  blood, 
and  especially  desolated  tlie  classic  land  of  Italy, 
wliere  genius,  drinking  at  perennial  fountains  of 
inspiration,  has  in  every  age  crowned  the  inde- 
structible beauty   of    nature    with  imperishable 
garlands.     But,  after  a  time,  the  preponderance 
of  Spain  became  unquestionable.      Her  vast  re- 
sources, the  profound  policy  of  her  rulers,  the  con- 
summate ability  of  her  generals,  the  disciplined 
valour  of  her  troops,  filled  the  rest  of  Europe 
with  a  well-founded  fear  that  she  would  achieve 
universal  dominion.     In  the  obstinate  and  often- 
renewed  warfare  the  power  of  France  was  crippled 
by  memorable  reverses  at  Pavia  and  St.  Quentm. 
The  Huguenot  convulsion  which    followed    the 
death  of  Henry  II.  prostrated  her  at  the  feet  of 
her  hereditary  foe.     But  after  the  death  of  Philip 
II.  of  Spain  his  throne  was  occupied  by  a  de- 
generate   line,    and    the    influence    of    a    pure 
despotism,  administered    by   weak  and    corrupt 
hands,  was  apparent  in  the  rapid  decay  of  his 
empire.     The  liberties   of   CastHe  cloven  down 
under  the  regency  of    Cardinal  Zimines  at  the 
battle  of  Villalar,  the  liberties  of  Arragon  crushed 
by  PHHp  II.,  had  never  been  permitted  to  bud 
forth  again.      The  old  crusading  spirit  was  now 
out  of  date.     The  monarchy  had  accomplished  its 
peculiar  mission;  the  great  Catholic  reaction  had 


\ 


47 

spent  its  force.      There  no  longer  existed  within 
the  state  either  a  strong  vital  principle  or  a  re- 
generating element.      With  the  hardy  love  of 
adventure,  born  of  popular  freedom  and  elevated 
by  religious  zeal,  the  lust  of  conquest  had  also 
passed  away.      The  riches  of  Mexico  and  Peru 
enervated  the  iron  energies  which  a  world  in  arms    , 
could  not  subdue.     And  when  the  mighty  genius 
of   Richelieu,  having    stifled   anarchy    at    home, 
directed    the    united    strength     of     France    to 
humble  her  old    rival,  it  was  seen  how  languid 
was  the  life-current  that  animated  a  colossal  frame; 
how  rapidly  the  powerful  empire  of  Philip  II.  was 
collapsing  into  a  nerveless  mass,  terrible  only  in 
the  prestige  of  former  glories.  Still,  however,  the 
superb  monarchy  preserved  its  vast  proportions. 
Internal  revolution  or  foreign  aggression  had,  as 
yet,  scarcely  torn  a  gem  from  the  haughty  diadem 
of  Spain  and  the  Indies.      The  fairest  regions  of 
Europe,    the    realms    subdued    by    Cortez    and 
Pizarro,   where    the    soil   teemed  with   precious 
stones  and  the  rivers  flowed  over  sands  of  gold, 
remained  subject  to  its  sway.     Castilian  pride  and 
prowess  still  awakened  emotions  of  hatred  and 
fear  in  every  known  region  of  the  globe. 

The  Spanish  army  which  Enghien  was  charged 
to  oppose  consisted  of  twenty-seven  thousand 
veteran  troops  under  the  command  of  Don  Fran- 


48 

Cisco  de  Melo,  an  experienced  general.     De  Melo 
had  laid  siege  to  Rocroi,  a  frontier  town  of  con- 
siderable strength,  embosomed    in  the  forest  of 
Ardennes.      It  was  the  key  of  the  province  of 
Champagne,  and  its  capture  would  open  the  road 
to  Paris.     The  young  duke  marched  with  twenty- 
two  thousand    men  to   relieve  the    place;   and 
neither  the  news  of  the  death  of  Louis  XIII., 
which  reached  him  on  his  way,  with  positive  orders 
from  the  Government  not  to  risk  a  battle,  nor  the 
cautious  counsels  of  the  old  Marshal  THopital, 
who  had  been  appointed  to  restrain  his  well-known 
impetuosity,  checked  the  rapidity  of  his  move- 
ments.   He  was  determined  to  fight  at  all  hazards. 
The  Spaniards  had  pitched  their  camp  on  an 
uneven  plain  of  small  extent,  surrounded  on  all 
sides  by  woods  and  marshes,  and  crowned  by  the 
beleaguered  fortress.     Their  position,  which  could 
only  be  approached  through  a  narrow  defile,  was 
naturally  almost  impregnable.     But  De  Melo  was 
himself  too  anxious  for  battle  to  avail  himself  of 
his  advantages  of  ground  for  the  purpose  of  de- 
fence.     Confiding  in  the  superior  numbers  and 
the  tried  valour  of  his  troops,  and  well  informed 
of  the  critical  state  of  affairs  in  Paris,  he  had  re- 
solved to  terminate  the  war  by  a  decisive  blow. 
He  therefore  permitted  the  French  army  to  pour 
without  molestation  through  the  narrow  pass,  and 


49 

encamp  on  a  small  eminence  fronting  his  own 
position.  Evening  was  closing  in,  and  both  sides 
prepared  for  a  decisive  battle  at  break  of  day. 

Marshal  THopital,  terrified  at  Enghien's  rash- 
ness in  exposing  his  troops  to  the  assault  of  a 
superior  enemy  in  a  position  in  which  defeat  was 
destruction,  earnestly  besought  him  to  draw  back 
while  there  was  yet  time.     But  the  duke,  sur- 
rounded by  young  French  nobles  as  eager  for 
glory  as   himself,   and  having    the    support  of 
General  Gassion,  the  most  able  and  enterprising 
of  his   lieutenants,   peremptorily  over-ruled    his 
mentor's  opposition.      He  had  determined  to  re- 
turn to  Paris  a  conqueror  or  a  corpse.     On  the 
other  side,  De  Melo  unwisely  refused  to  await  the 
arrival  of  General  Beck,  who,  with  a  detached 
wing  of  his  army,  was  hastening  back  to  his  aid. 

The  night  was  cold  and  dim,  but  soon  the  whole 
plain  blazed  with  watch-fires,  which  flung  a  ruddy 
blush  on  the  lowering  heavens,  the  sombre  foliage 
and  the  white  walls  of  the  besieged  town.  As  the 
night  roUed  on,  the  scene  was  one  that,  even  in 
the  mind  of  a  war-worn  veteran,  might  well  have 
awakened  feelings  of  solemn  awe.  The  majestic 
woods  ranged  around  in  a  sylvan  amphitheatre, 
here  frowning  in  dense  masses,  here  standing  out 
gaunt  and  spectral  in  the  flickering  light,  looked 
down  mournfully  on  that  tranquil  plain,  so  soon 
VOL.   I.  T. 


50 

to  be  rent  by  the  fury  and  strewn  with  the  wrecks 
of  war,  to  become  the  grave  of  a  great  empire ; 
but  where  now  the  death-hke  stillness  resting  on 
the  armed   hosts,   and   sadly   suggestive  of  the 
deeper  and  more  appalling  silence  that  would  close 
the  strife  of  the  morrow,  was  rendered  palpable 
rather  than  broken  by  the  mighty  respiration  of 
profound  slumber,  floating  in  a  drowsy  hum  upon 
the  air,  or  the  occasional  boom  of  a  cannon  from 
the  distant  ramparts,  echoing  in  dying  thunder 
through  the  leafy  aisles  of  the  forest.     And  in 
addition  to   the   sobering    influence    which    the 
mournful  magic  of  that  scene  and  hour   would 
naturally  fling  over  the  unseared  mind  of  a  general 
of  two  and  twenty  on  the  eve  of  his  first  battle, 
there  were  special  anxieties  incidental  to  Enghien's 
situation  sufficient  to  disturb  the   composure  of 
the  most  veteran   captain.     He  was  about,  with 
inferior  forces,  and,  contrary  to  the  advice  of  his 
oldest  officers,    to  fight  a  battle  on  which  the 
safety  not  only  of  his  army  but  of  his  country 
depended.     Opposed  to  him  were  generals  grown 
grey  in  war,  on  ground  selected  by  themselves ; 
and  above  all  he  had  to  confront  the  renowned 
Spanish  infantry,  those  famous  tercios  who,  since 
the  days  of  the  Great  Captain,  had  been  the  terror 
and  admiration  of  the  world.     On  their  serried 
ranks  the  stormiest  wave  of  battle  had  hitherto 


51 


broken  in  vain.  No  foeman  had  ever  seen  their 
backs.  They  had  driven  the  Arabs  from  the 
mosques  of  Cordova ;  they  had  shivered  the  idols 
in  the  temples  of  the  Incas ;  they  had  crushed  the 
great  Lutheran  League  at  Muhlberg;  they  had 
tamed  the  pride  of  Islam  on  the  banks  of  the 
Danube.  Often  before  had  the  flower  of  French 
chivalry  recoiled  from  their  iron  columns  like 
raging  surf  from  a  rugged  cliff.  Whenever 
hitherto  the  battle  had  wavered,  the  shock  of  the 
tercios,  united  as  one  man,  had  turned  the  tide. 
For  a  century  and  a  half  they  had  been  invincible, 
and  in  truth  it  needed  extraordinary  genius  or 
extraordinary  incapacity  to  outweigh  so  much 
disciplined  valour. 

But  the  mind  of  the  young  hero,  naturally 
somewhat  hard  and  selfish,  was  as  undisturbed  as 
if  it  had  found  in  peril  its  proper  element.  Fhng- 
ing  himself  on  the  ground  by  a  watch-fire,  he  was 
soon  buried  in  such  profound  slumbe^  that  his 
attendants  aroused  him  with  difficulty  at  break  of 
day.  Before  the  dawn  of  the  20th  of  May,  1643, 
both  armies  were  drawn  out  in  battle  array.  The 
formation  of  both  was  that  usual  at  the  time ;  the 
strength  of  the  cavalry  was  disposed  on  the  wings, 
the  strength  of  the  infantry  in  the  centre. 

On  the  right  wing  of  the  French,  Enghien  com- 
manded in  person,  with  Ga-ssion  as  second  in 

D  2 


52 


53 


command.  In  place  of  a  helmet  he  wore  a  hat 
adorned  with  large  white  plumes.  Marshal 
THopital  led  the  French  left.  Baron  d'Espenan 
the  centre,  and  Baron  de  Sirot  the  reserves. 
This  last  general  was  a  Burgundian,  famous 
throughout  the  army  for  his  boast  that  in  each 
of  three  pitched  battles  he  had  encountered  a 
king,  and  had  borne  away  as  trophies  of  his  per- 
sonal prowess  the  hat  of  Gustavus  Adolphus,  the 
scarf  of  the  King  of  Poland,  and  the  pistol  of  the 
King  of  Denmark. 

The  right    of    the   Spanish   army,   composed 
mainly  of  German  horse,  was  led  by  Don  Fran- 
cisco de  Melo.     The  Duke  of  Albuquerque,  a  dis- 
tinguished officer,  was  stationed  on  the  left  with 
the  Walloon  Cavalry.     The  tercios  were  in  the 
centre ;    their  renowned  leader,   the    Count   of 
Fuentes,  oppressed  by  age  and  infirmities,  reclined 
on  a  litter  in  the  midst  of  his  veteran  bands.     De 
Melo,  taking  advantage  of  the  hollow  and  wooded 
ground  that  separated  the  hostile  camps,  placed 
a  thousand  musketeers  in  ambush,  with  orders  to 
fall  on  Enghien^s  flank  and  rear  in  the  heat  of 

the  fight. 

The  trumpets  having  sounded,  the  battle  began 
simultaneously  on  both  wings.  Enghien,  having 
penetrated  the  tactics  of  his  adversary,  made  a 
detour  to  the  right,  cut  in  pieces  the  musketeers 


. 


who  lay  sheltered  in  a  copse-wood,  and  then 
dashing  forward  with  the  rapidity  of  a  whirlwind, 
charged  the  Spanish  left  in  front  and  flank. 
Albuquerque^s  Walloons  were  borne  down  by  the 
impetuosity  of  the  attack,  and  scattered  over  the 
plain  like  withered  leaves  drifting  in  the  blasts  of 
autumn.  On  the  other  wing,  De  Melo,  with  equal 
vigour  and  success,  drove  PHopitaPs  squadrons 
from  the  field ;  routed  Espenan^s  infantry ;  cap- 
tured all  the  French  artillery ;  and  then  fell  with 
fury  on  the  reserves.  The  situation  appeared  so 
desperate  that  several  of  his  officers  urged  Baron 
Sirot  to  fly,  assuring  him  that  the  day  was  lost. 
"  No,^'  replied  the  Burgundian,  "  the  day  is  not 
lost,  for  Sirot  and  his  comrades  have  yet  to  fight.^' 
But  notwithstanding  the  most  heroic  efforts,  the 
French  reserves,  pressed  on  all  sides,  began  to 
waver,  and  disastrous  rout  seemed  inevitable  along 
the  whole  line. 

Tidings  of  the  critical  state  of  the  battle  were 
brought  to  Enghien,  while  he  was  still  in  hot  pur- 
suit of  Albuquerque's  cavalry.  It  was  a  moment 
to  test  decisively  the  capacity  of  a  leader.  But 
Enghien,  like  Julius  Caesar,  was  born  a  great 
general.  One  flash  of  inspiration  showed  him  the 
road  to  victory,  one  mighty  impulse  of  impetuous 
valour  carried  him  to  the  goal.  Gathering  to- 
gether his  squadrons,  he  led  them  at  full  gallop 


I    ri 


54 


55 


behind  tlie  Spanish  centre,  and  hurled  them  Hke  a 
thunderbolt  against  De  Melons  rear.  The  shock 
and  the  surprise  of  an  assault  from  warriors  who 
appeared  to  have  started  out  of  the  earth,  were 
irresistible.  Rider  and  horse  went  down  in  the 
crash  of  this  terrible  onset.  The  French  cavalry 
cleft  like  an  iron  wedge  through  the  midst  of  the 
enemy ;  then,  wheeling  right  and  left,  rode  them 
down  in  masses.  The  plain  was  strewed  with  the 
broken  ranks.  De  Melo's  whole  wing  was 
shattered  to  pieces,  and  the  General,  casting  away 
his  baton  of  command,  saved  himseK  with  diffi- 
culty by  the  speed  of  his  horse. 

But  the  battle  was  not  yet  over.  It  still  re- 
mained to  vanquish  the  Spanish  infantry  which, 
drawn  up  in  a  solid  square,  had  hitherto  stood 
motionless,  haughty  and  menacing,  but  calm  in 
the  heroic  pride  of  a  hundred  triumphs,  a  dark 
cloud  charged  with  the  lightning  of  war.  Enghien 
surveyed  these  stem  warriors  for  some  time  with 
admiration  mingled  with  anxiety;  but  while  he 
hesitated  to  attack  them,  information  reached  him 
of  the  approach  of  General  Beckys  division.  It  was 
clear  that  he  had  no  more  time  to  lose.  Having 
first  ordered  a  furious  cannonade  with  all  his  guns, 
to  break  in  pieces  the  serried  hues  of  the  enemy, 
he  collected  his  cavalry  into  one  mass  and  threw 
it  on  the  Spanish  square.    The  Spaniards  remained 


motionless  till  their  assailants  had  come  to  within 
fifty  feet ;  then  their  ranks  opening,  vomited  forth 
a  hissing  torrent  of  flame  and  death  that  swept 
away  the  French  by  entire  squadrons.  So  terrible 
was  the  carnage  and  confusion  in  the  French 
ranks,  that  a  charge  of  the  German  or  Walloon 
horse  must  have  totally  changed  the  fortunes  of 
the  day.  But  these  were  already  far  away  from 
the  field,  and  Enghien  rallied  his  men  with  extra- 
ordinary promptitude.  Again  and  yet  again  the 
French  artillery  thundered,  and  in  the  pauses 
of  the  cannonade,  the  French  cavalry  charged 
with  the  most  brilliant  courage  into  the  gaps 
which  the  shot  had  torn,  roused  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  enthusiasm  by  the  example  of  their  young 
leader,  who  rode  in  the  foremost  line,  his  white 
plumes  floating  above  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  a 
foam-streak  cresting  the  red  wave  of  battle.  Again 
and  a  third  time  the  choicest  troops  of  France  were 
scattered  in  frightful  disarray,  or  fell  in  heaps, 
mowed  down  by  the  iron  tempest  that  burst  from 
that  fatal  square.  It  was  then  that  the  Count  of 
Fuentes  showed  with  what  grandeur  a  noble 
spirit  can  rise  superior  to  the  infirmities  of  the  body, 
and  the  pangs  of  death  itself.  Broken  by  years 
and  sickness,  and  covered  with  wounds,  the  old 
General  continued,  with  serene  fortitude,  to  issue 
his  orders  from  the  Utter  that  was  soaked  with  his 


56 


blood,  and  to  sustain  Ms  old  companions  in  arms 
by  voice  and  example.  The  brave  tercios,  girdled 
by  their  rampart  of  fire,  sternly  closed  up  their 
thinning  ranks  after  each  furious  onset,  and  again 
awaited,  with  unfaltering  resolution,  the  shock  of 
the  foe. 

At  last  Enghien  bringing  up  all  his  forces, 
horse,  foot,  and  artillery,  assailed  the  Spaniards 
on  every  side.  But  the  Spanish  ofiicers  now  saw 
that  further  resistance  could  only  result  in  useless 
slaughter.  Their  best  men  had  fallen ;  Fuentes 
was  expiring  of  his  wounds ;  and  there  was  no 
longer  a  hope  of  succour.  The  fugitive  cavalry, 
meeting  in  its  flight  the  advancing  troops  of 
General  Beck,  had  communicated  to  them  its  own 
panic,  and  hurried  them  along  in  such  headlong 
rout,  that  all  the  cannon  and  baggage  of  the 
division  was  abandoned  to  an  unseen  enemy.  The 
Spanish  ofl&cers,  therefore,  expressed  by  signs  a 
wish  to  surrender.  Enghien,  overjoyed,  advanced 
alone  to  accept  their  submission.  But  the  Spanish 
soldiers,  mistaking  his  friendly  gestures  for  hostile 
signals,  received  him  with  a  terrible  volley  of 
musketry.  He  escaped  by  a  miracle.  The  French, 
enraged  at  this  seeming  perfidy,  rushed  forward  to 
avenge  it,  and  numbers  fell  before  the  exertions 
of  the  ojfficers  on  both  sides  could  stay  the  slaughter. 
The  surviving  Spaniards  surrendered. 


57 

Such  was  the  victory  of  Rocroi,  one  of  the  most 
glorious  and  decisive  in  history.       It   was   the 
death-blow  of  the  great  Spanish  monarchy.     The 
renowned  tercios,  so  long  its  prop  and  pride,  were 
here  annihilated.     A  Spanish  officer,   on  being 
asked  after  the  battle  what  had  been  their  strength 
in  the  morning,  answered  with  a  mournful  pride, 
"You  have  only    to    count  the  dead    and  the 
prisoners.''     Spain  henceforth  was  unable  to  main- 
tain the  leading  position  which  for  more  than  a 
century  she  had  held.     From  the  battle  of  Eocroi 
dates   that  decided   military    superiority  of  the 
French  which  has  more  than  once  menaced  the 
independence  of  Europe. 


D   O 


58 


59 


l\ 


CHAPTER  II. 


After  this  great  victory,  Enghien  proposed  to 
over-run  Flanders,  which  lay  open  to  invasion. 
But  the  boldness  of  the  project  was  distasteful  to 
the  Council  of  State,  then  distracted  by  the 
dissensions  that  preceded  the  elevation  of  Cardinal 
Mazarin  to  the  supreme  conduct  of  affairs ;  and 
he  was  compelled  to  restrict  his  operations  to  the 
seige  of  Thionvillc,  one  of  the  strongest  fortresses 
in  Europe,  which  commanded  the  coui^se  of  the 
Moselle  to  the  gates  of  Treves.  The  fall  of  this 
important  town,  after  a  stubborn  defence,  termi- 
nated the  campaign.  Anne  of  Austria,  overjoyed 
at  splendid  successes  which  had  established  her 
Regency  with  so  much  eclat ^  heaped  favours  on 
the  young  conqueror.  She  gave  him  the  govern- 
ment of  Champagne  and  the  town  of  Stenay ;  and 
at  his  request,  Gassion,  his  able  though  somewhat 
impracticable  lieutenant,  received  a  Marshal's 
baton. 


The  extraordinary  career  of  Gassion,  one  of  the 
greatest  soldiers  France  has  produced,  deserves  a 
brief  notice.  Alone  of  the  celebrated  generals 
who  created  the  military  power  of  Louis  XIV.,  he 
owed  nothing  of  his  success  to  birth  or  family  in- 
terest. Valour  and  capacity  raised  him  when  still 
young,  in  spite  of  unusual  personal  and  political 
disadvantages,  from  the  grade  of  a  private  soldier 
to  that  of  Marshal  of  France.  He  was  the  son 
of  a  President  of  the  Parliament  of  Pan.  His 
father  destined  him  for  the  legal  profession,  but 
at  the  age  of  fifteen  he  ran  away  from  home  and 
enUsted.  His  bravery  and  good  conduct  soon 
won  commendation ;  but  the  rude  independence 
of  his  character,  and  his  strong  attachment  to  the 
Huguenot  faith,  coupled  with  his  plebeian  origin, 
opposed  an  almost  insuperable  bar  to  his  advance- 
ment. Fortunately  for  him  he  attracted  the  notice 
of  Cardinal  Richelieu,  whose  eye  was  ever  quick 
to  discern  merit,  and  who  was  indulgent  to  here- 
tical opinions  when  they  did  not  menace  the  wel- 
fare of  the  State.  The  Cardinal,  admiring  the 
military  talents  and  the  rough  frankness  of  the 
young  Gascon,  gave  him  his  confidence  and  esteem, 
pushed  him  on  to  high  commands,  and  was  fond 
of  comparing  him  to  his  celebrated  countryman, 
Bertrand  de  Guesclin.  He  used  to  add  that 
Gassion  was  free  from  the  coarseness  that  sullied 


60 


tlie  splendid  qualities  of  Charles  Y/s  famous  Con- 
stable. Though  Gassion  obtained  his  Marshal's 
baton  upon  the  recommendation  of  Enghien,  his  in- 
subordination afterwards  provoked  a  quarrel  with 
his  imperious  commander.  Incapable  of  flattery  or 
even  of  discretion^  he  gave  mortal  offence  to  Car- 
dinal Mazarin  by  publicly  deriding  the  all-powerful 
minister's  pretentions  to  military  knowledge ;  and 
there  is  but  little  doubt  that  long  before  his  death 
he  would  have  fallen  into  complete  disgrace,  had 
his  genius  been  less  remarkable,  or  less  necessary 
to  the  State.  He  was  killed  in  1647,  while  be- 
sieging the  small  town  of  Lens,  and,  as  has  been 
well  remarked  by  a  native  historian,  "  France  in 
gaining  a  hamlet  lost  a  hero." 

During  Enghien's  absence  at  the  siege  of  Thion- 
ville,  his  young  wife  was  delivered  of  a  son.  He, 
who  only  the  previous  year  might  have  been  seen 
playing  at  children's  games  in  the  saloons  of  the 
capital,  returned  to  them  with  the  most  glorious 
name  in  Europe,  and  found  all  Paris  at  his  feet. 

There  has  never  existed  in  any  other  country  of 
Europe  a  condition  of  society  approaching  in  in- 
tellectual brilliancy  and  extravagant  debauchery, 
that  of  the  French  capital  during  the  Regency  of 
Anne  of  Austria.  Never  before  or  since  has  there 
been  seen  collected  together  such  versatile  genius, 
such  sparkling  wit,  such  spiritual  beauty  adorned 


1 


61 


with  every  charm  except  virtue,  such  coarse 
frivolity,  such  reckless  ferocity,  such  universal 
and  shameless  laxity  of  principle.  The  melan- 
choly and  austere  character  of  Louis  XIII. ;  his 
long  estrangement  from  his  wife,  which  banished 
gaiety  and  pomp  from  the  silent  halls  of  the 
Louvre,  and  the  iron  rule  of  his  Minister  had  ex- 
ercised a  stifling  influence  on  French  society. 
RicheHeu  himself  was  a  most  munificent  friend  of 
literature  and  the  fine  arts,  and  delighted  in 
brilliant  festivals  and  pageants.  He  loved  to 
assemble  aU  who  were  distinguished  or  attractive 
in  the  magnificent  halls  of  the  Palais  Cardinal,  or 
at  Ruel,  where  every  form  of  costly  and  refined 
enjoyment  charmed  the  fancy  and  gratified  the 
most  fastidious  taste.  But  ever  engrossed  with 
the  cares  of  government  and  the  active  direction 
of  military  operations,  his  occasional  example  was 
insufficient  to  counteract  the  effects  of  a  state  of 
continual  foreign  and  domestic  strife,  a  harsh  and- 
cheerless  court,  and  a  sternly  repressive  rule.  The 
young,  beautiful,  and  accomplished  Marchioness  of 
Rambouillet  had  indeed  already  formed  the 
celebrated  circle  which  for  purity  of  tone,  com- 
bined with  the  highest  charms  of  cultivated  in- 
tellect, and  feminine  grace,  has  never  been  rivalled. 
In  the  saloons  of  the  Hotel  Rambouillet  might  be 
seen,  amidst  a  dazzhng  crowd  of  minor  luminaries. 


62 


Voiture ;  Corneille^  now  at  the  summit  of  his  fame ; 
Moliere,  La  Fontaine,  Boileau,  who  had  already 
achieved  their  first  laurels;  Bossuet  rising  into 
celebrity,  and,  later  on,  Pascal.  But  the  standard 
of  thought  and  refinement  in  this  circle  was  too 
high  for  any  but  the  choicer  spirits  of  the  time, 
and  its  influence  did  not  touch  the  general  mass 
of  the  high-bom  and  wealthy. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  Regency,  how- 
ever, Parisian  society,  relieved  from  the  frigid 
asceticism  of  Louis  XIII.,  and  the  iron  pressure 
of  Richelieu,  burst  forth  with  a  wayward  vigour 
and  a  wild  hcentiousness,  which  went  on  increas- 
ing in  force  and  extravagance  till  they  culminated 
in  the  frantic  excesses  of  the  Fronde.  The  Court 
presented  an  appearance  of  festivity  and  splendour 
unknown  since  the  palmy  days  of  Catherine  of 
Medicis.  Brilliant,  beautiful,  and  dissolute  women, 
the  Duchess  of  Chevreuse,  the  Duchess  of  Mont- 
bazon,  the  Princess  Palatine,  and  others  belonging 
to  the  highest  rank  of  nobility,  who  had  been 
forced  into  exile  or  obscurity  in  the  previous  reign, 
reappeared  in  Paris,  and  threw  open  their  saloons, 
in  which  the  strife  of  love,  of  politics,  of  vanity, 
of  cupidity,  raged  without  restraint.  It  was  an 
age  of  extraordinary  characters.  The  most  cele- 
brated personages  of  either  sex  who  illustrated 
the  times  of  Louis  XIY.  grew  up,  or  were  matured. 


I 


63 


amidst  the  bold  license  in  which  the  social  and 
political  life  of  France  rioted  during  the  regency 
of  his  mother.  The  young  hero  of  Rocroi  found  i 
himself,  on  his  return  to  the  capital,  the  central 
figure  of  intoxicating  scenes,  which  flattered  his ' 
self-esteem  and  stimulated  his  passions.  Loaded 
with  honours  and  caresses  by  the  Regent  and 
Cardinal  Mazarin,  idolized  by  his  own  family, 
courted  and  followed  on  every  side  by  those  who 
were  themselves  objects  of  adulation,  disliking 
and  despising  his  wife,  he  plunged  into  the  dissi- 
pations which  spread  their  allurements  before  him, 
with  all  the  ardour  of  his  fiery  nature.  The  queens 
of  beauty  and  fashion  welcomed  the  young  hero 
with  their  brightest  smiles ;  and  there  gathered 
around  him,  as  their  natural  chief,  a  brilliant  band 
of  debauched  young  nobles,  many  of  whom  after- 
wards  became  famous.  De  Grammont,  Bussy, 
Rabutin,  Marsillac,  better  known  as  La  Roche- 
foucault,  Chatillon,  and  his  brother  Coligny. 
Boutteville,  renowned  in  later  years  as  Duke  of 
Luxembourg,  Turenne,  were  constantly  seen  in 
his  train.  His  person  and  bearing  were  weU 
adapted  to  sustain  the  admiration  excited  by  his 
great  achievements.  He  was  above  the  middle 
stature,  was  perfectly  weU-made,  and  excelled  in  all 
graceful  and  manly  exercises.  He  had  a  magni- 
ficent head.  ,  Large  blue  eyes,  bright  and  piercing 


64 

as  those  of  an  eagle,  and  an  aquiline  nose  lent  to 
his  countenance  a  singular  character  of  command. 
His  mouth,  which  was  too  large,  and  expressed  the 
harshness  and  want  of  sensibility  which  disfigured 
his  disposition,  detracted  from  the  haughty  beauty 
of  his  face ;  but  the  vivacity   of  his  glance  and 
the   sparkling   gaiety   of  his   conversation,   soon 
caused  its  disagreeable   effect   to  be  forgotten. 
There   was     something    great   and   lofty  in  his 
whole   appearance   and    demeanour,    which   dis- 
covered, even  to  a  stranger,  a  proud  and  indomi- 
table soul. 

The  family  of  Conde  consisted  of  the  old 
Prince  and  Princess ;  Enghien  with  his  wife  and 
son ;  a  daughter,  Anne  Genevieve  of  Bourbon, 
two  years  older  than  the  Duke ;  and  a  second  son, 
his  junior  by  eight  years. 

Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon,  one  of  the  loveHest 
women  of  the  age,  was  married  to  the  Duke  of 
Longueville,  a  nobleman  old  enough  to  be  her 
father,  but  of  great  hereditary  possessions  and 
influence,  who  represented  an  illegitimate  branch 
of  the  royal  line,  and  one  of  the  most  worthy  of 
the  national  heroes,  the  famous  Count  Dunois. 
Her  beauty  consisted  not  so  much  in  perfection 
of  feature,  as  in  that  combination  of  colouring 
and  expression,  of  tender  grace  and  soft  brilliancy, 
which  is  most  potent  over  the  hearts  of  men.     It 


^1 


65 

was  impossible,  according  to  the  confession  of  a 
lady  who  was  her  contemporary  and  not  her 
friend,  to  see  her  without  loving  and  wishing  to 
please  her.  The  mild  radiance  of  her  blue  eyes, 
rich  and  lustrous  as  a  turquoise,  the  dazzling  bloom 
of  a  complexion  in  which  the  lily  and  the  rose 
were  exquisitely  blended ;  the  masses  of  golden 
hair  that  crowned  her  loveliness,  as  with  a  glory, 
the  delicate  symmetry  of  her  form,  and  an  undu- 
lating grace  which  made  its  movements  the  poetry 
of  motion,  ravished  the  eyes  of  the  beholder,  like 
an  angelic  vision.  Her  personal  attractions  were 
enhanced  by  wit,  talent,  and  considerable  ac- 
complishments. Her  brothers  were  attached  to 
her  with  passionate  devotion,  and  the  most  dis- 
tinguished young  nobles  of  the  Court  ardently 
contended  for  her  favour.  But  her  conduct  had 
been  above  reproach,  until  a  tragical  incident 
which  occurred  at  this  time  changed  the  whole 
tenour  of  her  life. 

During  the  summer  of  1643  the  struggle  for 
power  between  Anne  of  Austria's  old  allies,  the 
party  of  the  ancient  noblesse,  under  the  leader- 
ship of  Madame  de  Chevreuse  and  the  young 
Duke  of  Beaufort,  grandson  of  Henry  lY.,  and 
the  party  of  Cardinal  Richelieu,  of  which  the 
Prince  of  Conde  and  Cardinal  Mazarin  were  chiefs, 
convulsed  the  Court  and  city.     The  Princess  of 


I 


66 


Conde    and  Kichelieu's  accomplished  niece,  the 
Duchess  of  Aiguillon,  gave  efficient  support  to 
the  cause  to  which  family  interest  linked  them ; 
but  the  vast  majority  of  the  great  ladies  of  the 
capital  were  vehement  partizans   of  the  feudal 
party,    popularly  known   as  the    "  Importants/' 
Conspicuous  amongst  these  ladies  for  bold  and 
dazzling  beauty,   and  for  resolute  audacity  which 
scorned  the  restraints  of  prudence,  was  the  young 
Duchess  of  Montbazon,  wife  of  the  aged  Governor 
of  Paris,  who  was  father  of  Madame  de  Chev- 
reuse,  by  an  earlier  marriage.     Magnificent  dark 
hair  and   eyes,  a  brilliant  complexion  heightened 
by   art,  and   a  majestic   figure,   commanded  for 
Madame  de  Montbazon  the  admiration  and  homage 
of  the  whole  Court.     Beaufort  was  a  passionate 
and  favoured  lover  of  hers ;  and  even  the  Duke 
of  Longueville  wore    her   chains.      The  fresher 
charms,  the  more  exalted  rank,  the  spotless  fame 
of  Madame  de  Longueville,  her  reputation  in  the 
fastidious  circle  of  the  Hotel   Rambouillet,   and 
her  quiet  contempt  for  attractions  which  borrowed 
so   largely  from   art,  excited  Madame  de  Mont- 
bazon^s  jealousy   and  anger.     Not   content  with 
enticing  to  her  feet  the  husband  of  her  rival,  she 
resolved  to  blast  her  name.     One  evening  two 
letters  were  picked  up  in  the  crowded  saloons  of 
the  Hotel  de  Montbazon,  and  carried  to  the  hostess. 


r 


67 


No  one  approaching  to  claim  them,  the  Duchess 
glanced  over  their  contents,  and  proposed  to  read 
them  aloud  for  the  amusement  of  her  guests. 
They  were  anonymous  epistles  from  a  lady 
to  her  lover,  reproaching  him  for  his  coldness, 
and  his  ingratitude  for  past  favours.  The  Duchess 
having  finished  the  reading,  amidst  laughter, 
coarse  jests,  and  satirical  conjectures  regarding 
the  writer,  declared  that  the  letters  were  in  the 
handwriting  of  Madame  de  Longueville,  and  that 
they  had  been  dropped  by  Count  Coligny,  who 
had  just  quitted  the  apartment.  This  statement, 
though  a  mere  calumny,  as  was  made  manifest 
shortly  afterwards  by  the  voluntary  confession  of 
one  of  the  real  lovers,  was  quickly  circulated  in 
whispered  confidences  by  frail  sisters,  and  with 
rude  jibes  and  merriment  by  the  Duke  of 
Beaufort  and  his  boisterous  companions.  In 
the  heated  state  of  the  political  atmosphere,  the 
springing  of  a  mine  beneath  the  city  could  not 
have  filled  it  with  greater  tumult  and  dismay  than 
did  the  broaching  of  this  slander.  The  House  of 
Conde  and  its  powerful  connexion  prepared  to 
right  the  injured  lady,  if  necessary,  by  the  force 
of  arms.  Enghien,  then  before  Thionville,  des- 
patched a  challenge  to  Beaufort,  and,  without 
waiting  for  the  Regent's  permission,  set  out  for 
Paris  to  avenge  his  sister.      The  allies  of  the 


es 


Houses  of  Vendome^  Guise  and  Montbazon,  in 
short  the  whole  party  of  the  Importants,  rallied 
around  the  vindictive  Duchess.  The  capital 
would  have  been  deluged  with  blood  had  not  the 
Eegent  promptly  intervened  and  treated  the 
quarrel  as  an  affair  of  State.  She  sent  a  mes- 
senger to  stop  Enghien,  with  the  assurance  that 
she  assumed  to  herself  the  duty  of  vindicating 
the  honour  of  a  Bourbon  princess ;  and  then  com- 
manded Madame  de  Montbazon  to  deliver  up  the 
letters  to  her,  and  to  make  a  public  apology  to  the 
Princess  of  Conde.  The  Duchess  was  forced  to 
submit.  The  letters  were  read  aloud  at  Court  by 
Cardinal  Mazarin,  and  then  committed  by  Anne  of 
Austria  to  the  flames.  Madame  de  Chevreuse,  on 
behalf  of  her  step-daughter,  and  Mazarin  on  the 
part  of  the  Queen,  met  in  a  room  of  the  Louvre, 
and,  after  a  wrangling  discussion  of  many  hours, 
agreed  on  the  terms  in  which  reparation  was  to 
be  made.  On  the  appointed  day  Madame  de 
Montbazon,  attended  by  Beaufort  and  a  splendid 
train  of  cavaliers,  repaired  to  the  Hotel  de  Conde, 
where  all  the  world  of  Paris  was  assembled.  The 
written  apology,  which  she  was  to  read  aloud,  was 
pinned,  as  previously  agreed,  to  the  inside  of  her 
fan.  The  princess,  the  living  type  of  calm 
dignity  and  aristocratic  pride,  and  still  adorned 
with  much  of  the  peerless  beauty  which  had  thrown 


h 


69 

half  Europe  into  confusion,  awaited  her  unwHling 
visitor  in  State  at  the  furthest  end  of  the  crowded 
saloon,  with  Cardinal  Mazarin  at  her  side  as  repre- 
sentative of  the  Regent.  The  Duchess  slowly 
advanced  towards  them  with  an  air  of  insolent 
levity;  pronounced  the  words  in  mocking  tones; 
and  then,  surrounded  by  her  briUiant  escort,  swept 
in  superb  disdain  from  the  room.  The  deliberate 
insult  of  this  proceeding  aggravated  the  original 
offence;  and  the  Princess  obtained  permission 
from  the  Queen  to  absent  herself  from  every 
place  of  resort  where  she  might  be  forced  to 
endure  the  presence  of  her  fair  enemy.  As  Madame 
de  Conde,  by  her  rank,  lofty  character,  political 
influence,  and  close  intimacy  with  Anne  of 
Austria,  was  in  reahty,  though  not  in  name, 'the 
second  lady  in  France,  this  arrangement  excluded 
the  Duchess  of  Montbazon  from  society  on  aU 
occasions  of  Court  festivity  or  State  ceremonial. 
Deeply  mortified  she  determined  to  resist. 

The  most  fashionable  place  of  public  resort  at 
that  time  in  Paris  was  a  pleasure  garden,  caUed 
the  ^' Jardin  Renard,^^  close  to  the  Seine,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Tuileries  Gardens.  It  was  the 
custom  of  the  high  world  to  repair  thither  on 
summer  evenings  after  the  promenade  on  Cours 
la  Reine,  and  solace  themselves  with  feasting, 
music,  and  flirtations.     The  Duchess  of  Chevreuse 


I 


I 


iiri 


i 


70 


one  evening  invited  the  Queen  and  tlie  Princess 
of  Conde  to  sup  with  her  in  this  garden.      As 
they  approached  the  pavilion  reserved  for  them 
Madame   de  Montbazon   came  forth  from  it  to 
receive  them.     The  princess  was  about  to  retire, 
but  the  Queen  requested  Madame  de  Chevreuse 
to  induce  her  step-daughter  to  withdraw.      But 
this  self-willed  lady  flatly  refused,  and  persisted 
in  accosting  Anne  of  Austria,  who  waved  her  off 
with  an  angry  gesture,  and  quitted  the  Garden. 
The  Regent  dearly  loved  dainty  cheer ;  and  her 
wrath  was   not   diminished  on  hearing  how  the 
Duchess,  after  her  departure,  had  seated  herself, 
in  high  spirits,  and  feasted  on  the  delicacies  pro- 
vided for  the  royal  party.     On  the  following  day 
the  rebellious  beauty  received  an  order  of  banish- 
ment  from   Paris,    and   her   exile   was   speedily 
followed   by   the   ruin    of    her  faction.      When 
Enghien  returned  to  Court,  Beaufort  was  a  pri- 
soner   at    Yincennes;    but,    at    his   instigation. 
Count   Coligni   challenged   the   Duke   of    Guise, 
who  was  accused,  though  apparently  with  injus- 
tice, of  having  been  concerned  in  disseminating 
the  slander  about  Madame  de  Longueville.     Not- 
withstanding the  severe  laws  against  duelling, 
enacted  by   Cardinal   Eichelieu,   the   combatants 
met  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  in  the  centre 
of  the  Place  Royale,  then  the  most  fashionable 


71 


quarter  of  Paris.  After  a  few  passes,  Coligni  fell, 
mortally  wounded.  At  a  window  over-looking 
the  scene  might  be  discerned  a  half-concealed 
form  of  exquisite  grace,  agitated  by  powerful 
emotion ;  a  face  of  almost  seraphic  beauty  clouded 
over  by  anxiety,  and  terror,  and  despair.  It  was 
Madame  de  Longueville  watching  the  encounter, 
and  the  mortal  agony  of  her  champion,  the  ill- 
starred  victim  of  the  baffled  vengeance  of  her 
family,  and  his  own  fatal  passion.  The  unhappy 
notoriety  which  attached  to  her  on  account  of 
these  events  had  a  most  disastrous  influence  on 
Madame  de  Longueville's  subsequent  career. 

With  politics,  Enghien  meddled  little  during 
the  lifetime  of  his  father.  It  was  a  field  for  which 
his  natm'al  disposition  did  not  fit  him.  He  had 
neither  the  patience,  nor  the  tact,  nor  the  steadi- 
ness of  purpose  required  for  political  success. 
Brought  up  in  great  awe  of  his  father,  who  had 
grown  grey  in  intrigue,  he  submissively  bowed 
to  the  old  Prince's  experience  in  matters  of  State 
policy ;  and  Cond^  lost  none  of  his  opportunities, 
as  President  of  the  Council  of  State  and  chief 
prop  of  Cardinal  Mazarin,  for  advancing  the 
interests  of  his  house.  The  Princess  was  the 
bosom  friend  of  Anne  of  Austria.  Wholly 
devoted  to  her  glorious  son,  she  strove  to  forward 
even  his  unreasonable  aims  and  caprices  with  un- 


i! 

1 


72 


tiring  ardour.  War  and  pleasure — the  perils  and 
liardsliips  of  a  bloody  and  brilliant  campaign, 
followed  by  the  soft  and  turbulent  delights  of 
Parisian  society^  chiefly  filled  up  the  four  years  of 
his  life  that  followed  his  first  memorable  achieve- 
ment in  arms. 

In  the  spring  of  1644,  France  had  armies  on 
foot  against  the  Spaniards,  in  Italy,  on  the 
Flemish  frontier,  and  in  Catalonia,  which  had  re- 
volted from  the  Spanish  crown ;  and  in  Germany 
against  the  Emperor  and  the  Elector  of  Bavaria. 
The  army  of  Flanders  would  naturally  have  fallen 
to  Enghien  had  not  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  the 
King^s  uncle,  and  Lieutenant-General  of  the 
Kingdom,  jealous  of  the  renown  of  his  young 
cousin,  suddenly  claimed  the  command.  Enghien, 
therefore,  to  his  intense  mortification,  found  him- 
self condemned  to  inaction  at  the  head  of  a  few 
thousand  men  on  the  borders  of  Luxembourg, 
until  the  disasters  of  the  French  arms  in  Gefmany 
called  him  to  a  sphere  more  worthy  of  his  genius. 

In  November  of  the  preceding  year  the  Ba- 
varians and  Imperialists,  under  their  famous 
generals.  Count  Mercy  and  John  of  Worth,  had, 
though  inferior  in  strength,  fallen  on  the  army  of 
Marshal  Kantzau,  at  Teutlingen,  put  it  to  complete 
rout,  captured  its  commander  and  his  chief  oflBcers 
while  they  were  at  dinner,  and  all  its  artillery  and 


73 


baggage.  The  French  Court  dispatched  Viscount 
Turenne  to  repair  this  great  misfortune.  Turenne, 
the  younger  brother  of  the  Duke  of  Bouillon,  was 
ten  years  older  than  Enghien,  and  had  greatly 
distinguished  himself  in  Italy.  Notwithstanding 
all  his  efforts,  he  was  only  able  to  collect,  in  the 
spring  of  1644,  about  ten  thousand  of  Rantzau^s 
men,  demoralised  by  defeat,  wretchedly  equipped, 
and  in  want  of  all  necessary  stores.  Mercy,  with 
fifteen  thousand  men,  laid  siege  to  Fribourg,  in 
the  Briesgau,  and  the  French  General,  unable  to 
offer  any  effectual  opposition,  appealed  to  Cardinal 
Mazarin  for  reinforcements.  Thereupon  Enghien 
was  ordered  to  march  into  Germany  with  ten 
thousand  fresh  troops,  and  assume  the  chief 
command. 

When  the  young  Duke  joined  Turenne,  he  found 
that  Fribourg  had  surrendered,  and  that  Mercy 
had  intrenched  himself  in  an  apparently  impreg- 
nable position  before  the  town.  The  campaigns 
that  followed  between  Enghien  and  Mercy  have 
especial  interest,  because  never  probably  before 
or  since  have  the  merits  of  the  French  and  Ger- 
man soldiers  been  so  fairly  tested.  The  armies, 
though  small,  were  of  the  best  quality,  and  not 
unequal  in  numbers.  The  Germans  were  aU 
veterans,  trained  in  the  Thirty  Years^  War.  In 
the  opposite  camp  was  the  flower  of  the  French 


VOL.   I. 


E 


74 

nobility,  whicli  for  splendid  military  qualities  has 
never  in  any   age   or   country  been   surpassed. 
The  commanders  were,  in  tbe  highest  military 
sense,  representative  men.      Mercy  belonged  to 
the  greatest  school  of  German  generals,  and  was 
himself  unrivalled  in  the  thoughtful  skill  which 
used  to  the  utmost  advantage  the  stubborn  valour 
of    his    troops.      Enghien   excelled    all    French 
generals  in  rapid  insight,  in  heroic  daring,  and  in 
the  faculty  of  kindling  and  keeping  alive  in  his 
men  the   '^  French  fury  "  to  which  the  martial 
renown  of  his  nation  is  so  largely  due.     And,  if 
his  rash  genius  was  to  some  extent  sustained  by 
the  calm  science  of  Turenne ;  on  the  other  hand, 
the  caution  of  Mercy  was  stimulated  and  rendered 
fruitful    by    the  brilliant  audacity  of   John   of 

Worth. 

The  German  army  occupied  a  small  plain  on 
the  summit  of  a  mountain,  three  sides  of  which 
were  thickly  wooded,  and  surrounded  by  still 
loftier  eminences  shaggy  with  dense  forests.  The 
fourth  side  had  a  gentler  slope,  which  was  clothed 
with  vineyards,  and  broken  by  low  walls  and 
abattis  of  felled  wood  ;  these,  as  well  as  the  forti- 
fications that  crowned  its  crest,  were  held  in  force 
by  Mercy's  troops.  On  the  left  of  the  position,  a 
deep  and  narrow  defile  wound  through  the  wooded 
heights.     The  mouth  of  this  ravine  was  strongly 


75 

barricaded,  and  its  steep  sides  afforded  cover  to 
bodies  of  picked  marksmen.  The  rear  of  the 
German  camp  rested  on  the  town  of  Fribourg, 
Turenne,  judging  this  entrenched  post  to  be  im- 
pregnable, urged  Enghien  to  turn  it  and  compel 
the  Germans  to  evacuate  it  by  cutting  off  their 
supplies.  But  the  young  Duke,  listening  only  to 
the  suggestions  of  his  courage,  resolved,  in  order 
to  retrieve  the  honour  of  the  French  arms,  to  carry 
it  by  storm.  He  directed  Turenne,  with  part  of 
the  army,  to  force  the  defile  and  take  the  enemy 
in  flank ;  while  he,  with  the  remainder,  assailed 
him  in  front. 

In  order  to  allow  time  for  Turenne  to  execute 
his  circuitous  movement,  the  attack  was  deferred 
until  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
3rd  of  August.  The  main  body  of  the  French 
climbed  the  mountain,  through  the  vineyards, 
under  a  terrible  fire;  carried  obstacle  after  obstacle 
with  the  greatest  heroism ;  and  reached  the  en- 
trenchment on  the  summit.  But  here,  worn  out 
by  the  previous  struggles,  and  disheartened  by 
the  formidable  appearance  of  the  works  before 
them,  they  wavered  and  fell  back.  Enghien 
galloped  to  the  front,  threw  himself  from  his  horse, 
put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  regiment  of  Conti, 
and  flinging  his  baton  of  command  into  the  midst 
of  the  Bavarian  camp^  led  his  men  to  the  assault. 

E  2 


76 


Inspired  with  resistless  ardour,  by  the  example  of 
their  general,  they  carried  the  redoubt,  after 
frightful,  carnage ;  and  when  the  night  closed  in, 
were  masters  of  the  enemy^s  last  line  of  defence. 
In  the  meantime  Turenne  had  been  slowly  win- 
ning his  way  against  almost  insuperable  obstruc- 
tions. Just  as  decisive  results  were  about  to 
reward  his  efforts,  darkness,  ushered  in  by  torrents 
of  rain  and  a  furious  storm,  compelled  him  to 
pause.  The  French  generals,  uncertain  of  the 
extent  of  each  other's  progress,  impatiently 
awaited  the  morning  light  to  renew  the  conflict. 
But  when  day  broke  they  discovered  that  their 
skilful  antagonist,  under  cover  of  the  tempestuous 
night,  had  quietly  withdrawn  his  army  to  a  still 
stronger  position  on  the  Black  Mountain  behind 

the  town. 

The  following  day,  the  4th  of  August,  was  spent 
by  the  French  in  recovering  from  their  fatigues, 
and  by  the  Germans  in  completing  their  defences. 
On  the  5th,  as  Enghien  was  engaged  with  Tm-enne 
in  making  dispositions  for  a  second  attack, 
another  of  his  oflacers.  Baron  Espenan,  discon- 
certed all  his  plans  by  commencing  the  action 
without  orders.  The  fight  was  maintained  the 
whole  day  with  extraordinary  obstinacy,  but  in 
the  end  the  French  were  repulsed  on  all  sides 
with  prodigious  slaughter.     The  heaps  of  dead 


77 


and  dying  that  covered  the  field,  recklessly 
sacrificed  in  ill-judged  assaults,  filled  the  humane 
heart  of  Turenne  with  grief.  But  Enghien,  with 
the  selfish  levity  and  the  contempt  for  human  suf- 
fering which  have  left  the  darkest  blot  upon  his 
fame,  jestingly  remarked  that  "  one  night  of 
Paris  would  repair  the  loss."  His  force,  how- 
ever, was  so  much  weakened  that,  after  watching 
the  German  position  for  three  days,  he  prepared 
to  follow  the  original  advice  of  Turenne,  and  by 
making  a  detour,  cut  off  his  antagonist  from 
Wurtemburg.  But  Mercy  penetrated  his  designs; 
and  fearing  to  be  starved  among  the  mountains, 
sacrificed  his  artillery  and  baggage,  and  withdrew 
his  army  with  little  loss  through  the  passes  of  the 
Black  Forest. 

Though  the  glory  of  this  series  of  desperate 
battles,  known  as  the  three  days  of  Fribourg,  was 
equally  shared  by  the  hostile  generals  and  armies, 
all  the  soUd  advantages  fell  to  the  French. 
Within  a  few  weeks  after,  Phillipsburg,  Worms, 
Oppenheim,  Mayence,  Landau,  Manheim  and 
other  important  places  surrendered  to  Enghien 
or  Turenne ;  and  then  the  Duke  returned  to  the 
dissipations  of  Paris,  leaving  the  chief  command 
in  Germany  with  his  able  lieutenant. 

Enghien's  sojourn  iu  the  capital  during  the 
winter  of  1644-5  was  marked  by  a  violent  attach- 


78 


ment  he  conceived  for  Madamoiselle  Yigean^  a 
young  lady  distinguished  by  good  sense  and 
mental  accomplishments  rather  than  by  beauty. 
Her  virtue  being  proof  against  his  solicitations, 
he  formed  the  extravagant  project  of  repudiating 
his  wife  and  elevating  the  new  object  of  his 
passion  to  the  vacant  dignity.  The  scheme  was 
betrayed  by  Madame  de  Longueville  to  the  Prince 
of  Conde,  who,  greatly  enraged,  used  effectual 
means  to  nip  it  in  the  bud.  So  violent,  however, 
was  Enghien^s  passion  that  when  compelled  to 
part  from  Mdlle.  Vigean  by  the  renewal  of 
hostilities  in  the  spring  of  1645,  he  is  said  to  have 
swooned  away  from  grief. 

The  year  1645  opened  with  signal  disgrace  for 
the  French  arms  in  Germany.  Turenne,  after 
Enghien's  departure,  had  obtained  several  im- 
portant advantages ;  but  while  in  winter  quarters 
at  Mariendal,  he  suffered  himself  to  be  surprised 
by  Count  Mercy  and  John  of  Werth,  who  des- 
troyed or  captured  nearly  his  entire  army,  and 
all  its  baggage,  guns,  and  military  chest.  Never 
was  there  seen  more  complete  discomfiture. 
Turenne,  without  losing  heart,  applied  himself, 
with  the  patient  energy  and  the  fertihty  of  re- 
source in  which  he  excelled  all  other  generals 
of  his  time,  to  repair  this  great  disaster;  but 
before  he  could  collect  the  means  of  striking  a 


79 


blow  the  French  Government  again  sent  Enghien 
to  supersede  him  in  the  command.  The  Duke 
brought  with  him  a  reinforcement  of  eight 
thousand  men,  and  used  every  artifice  to  draw 
the  enemy  into  a  decisive  battle.  But  the  great 
Bavarian  General,  having  selected  a  position  on 
the  plains  of  Nordlingen,  with  the  tactical 
judgment  in  which  he  had  no  superior,  and 
carefully  fortified  it,  would  only  fight  on  his  own 
ground. 

Two  hills  arise,  at  a  short  distance  from  each 
other,  out  of  the  plain ;  one,  rather  precipitous, 
was  called  the  Weinberg ;  the  other  had  a  gentler 
slope,  and  was  crowned  by  the  old  Castle  of 
Allerheim.  At  the  entrance  of  the  narrow  valley 
that  divided  them,  nestled  the  village  of  Allerheim. 
Mercy  had  drawn  up  his  infantry  in  three  lines 
across  the  mouth  of  the  valley,  -and  protected 
them  with  strong  entrenchments.  His  right 
wing,  under  General  Glen,  held  the  Weinberg. 
The  ImperiaUst  cavalry,  under  John  of  Werth, 
was  massed  on  his  left  around  the  Castle  of 
Allerheim.  Extensive  works  covered  every  assail- 
able point  of  the  position,  which,  formidable  by 
nature  and  art,  and  defended  by  fifteen  thousand 
excellent  troops,  seemed  to  defy  attack.  Enghien 
had  only  eighteen  thousand  men.  His  infantry 
were  inferior  both  in  numbers  and  quality  to  that 


80 

of  his  opponent,  and  Turenne  strove  earnestly  to 
dissuade  him  from  hazarding  an  engagement  on 
such  unequal  terms.  But  confident  in  his  genius 
and  fortune,  and  having  no  hope  of  enticing 
Mercy  to  less  disadvantageous  ground,  the  Duke 
drew  up  his  army  for  battle.  He  directed 
Turenne  with  the  left  wing  to  carry  the  Weinberg, 
while  Marshal  Grammont  with  the  right  wing 
opposed  John  of  Worth,  and  the  Count  of  Marsin, 
with  the  centre,  assailed  the  village  of  Allerheimr 
A  strong  force  of  horse  and  foot  was  stationed 
in  the  rear,  under  the  Count  of  Chabot,  as  a 
reserve. 

The  French  infantry  under  Marsin  attacked  the 
village,  which  was  the  key  of  the  German  position, 
with  great  fury,  and  succeeded  in  penetrating  into 
the  main  street.  But  from  the  houses  on  either  side, 
from  the  church  steeple,  and  from  the  loop-holed 
walls  of  the  cemetery,  the  Bavarian  musketeers 
poured  on  them  a  murderous  fire.  Marsin  fell 
badly  wounded.  His  division,  maintaining  the 
struggle  to  the  last  with  unavailing  gallantry,  was 
almost  annihilated;  and  fresh  regiments  sent 
to  its  support  under  the  Marquis  of  la 
Moussaye  shared  the  same  fate.  Then  Enghien 
led  up  the  remainder  of  his  infantry,  in  person,  to 
restore  the  battle.  Mercy,  who  till  now  had  been 
calmly  watching  the  progress  of  the  fight,  could  not 


81 


restrain  his  joy  on  seeing  Enghien^s  movement. 
"  God,^^  he  cried,  "  has  turned  the  heads  of  the 
Frenchmen;  they  are  rushing  to  defeat;"  and  put- 
ting himself  at  the  head  of  his  reserves  he  advanced 
to  repel  this  new  assault.  The  combat  now  raged 
with  ten-fold  fury ;  the  carnage  was  horrible. 
The  rival  generals,  carried  away  by  emulation, 
fought  in  the  melee  within  a  hundred  yards 
of  one  another.  Enghien  had  two  horses  killed 
under  him,  and  three  wounded ;  his  hat  and 
clothes  were  riddled  with  bullets,  and  he  was 
slightly  wounded  in  the  thigh  and  arm.  He 
did  all  that  the  energy  and  valour  of  one  man 
could  accomplish ;  but  he  had  attempted  impos- 
sibilities. The  wrecks  of  his  infantry,  swept  back 
from  the  village  by  the  Bavarian  onset,  broke  and 
fled  in  wild  confusion.  Mercy  was  killed  in  the 
moment  of  victory,  cheering  on  his  troops;  but 
the  French  centre  was  utterly  destroyed. 

Meanwhile  the  fate  of  the  day  in  other  parts  of 
the  field  had  been  hardly  less  adverse  to  Enghien. 
John  of  Worth,  charging  down  from  the  Castle 
of  Allerheim,  routed  the  right  wing  of  the  French, 
and  took  Marshal  Grammont  prisoner.  He  then 
fell  on  the  reserve,  defeated  and  dispersed  it, 
killed  its  commander,  Chabot,  and,  hurried  away 
by  the  ardour  of  pursuit,  chased  the  fugitives  for 
miles  over  the  plain.     On  the  left  wing,  Turenne 

E  5 


I 


82 

tad  partly  scaled  the  Weinberg,  but  was  held  in 
check  by  General  Glen.  Nothing  could  be  more 
unpromising  than  the  prospect  that  presented 
itself  at  this  moment  to  Enghien.  The  right 
centre  and  reserve  of  his  army  were  gone ;  and 
the  left,  clinging  with  difficulty  to  the  side  of 
a  steep  hill,  was  in  momentary  danger  of  being 
hurled  back  by  superior  numbers,  or  taken  in  the 
rear.  Even  an  able  general,  in  such  circum- 
stances, might  well  have  Hmited  his  plans  to  the 
saving  from  destruction  of  the  still  unbroken 
remnant  of  his  forces. 

But  far  different  was  the  conception  that 
occurred  to  the  daring  genius  of  the  Duke. 
There  was  still  left  to  him  a  small  body  of  Hessian 
infantry,  and  a  handful  of  cavalry.  Putting  him- 
self at  the  head  of  these,  he  charged  up  the 
Weinberg  and  threw  himself  on  Glen's  men, 
already  fully  occupied  by  the  attack  of  Turenne. 
The  Germans,  shaken  by  the  impetuosity  of  this 
sudden  onslaught,  gave  ground.  Enghien  pressed 
on,  resistless  ;  flung  them  down  into  the  valley  in 
headlong  flight,  and,  following  on  their  track,  dis- 
persed them  completely,  and  took  their  general 
prisoner.  He  then  surrounded  the  village  of 
Allerheim.  The  victorious  Bavarian  infantry, 
deprived  of  their  leader,  and  bewildered  by  the 
sudden  turn  of  the  battle,  surrendered  without  a 


83 


blow.      When,  a  few  moments  later,  John  of 
Werth  returned,  in  all  the  confidence  of  assured 
success,  to  complete  the  destruction  of  his  foes,  he 
found  the  battle  irretrievably  lost.     Never  was 
there  seen  such  a  triumph  of  happy  fortune  and 
inspired  audacity.     Had  Mercy  lived,  had  John 
of  Werth  returned  by  a  shorter  route,  had  the 
Bavarians   defended    Allerheim,    nothing    could 
have  saved  the  French  from  a  terrible  defeat. 
And  no  other  general  but  Enghien  could  have 
plucked  victory  from  such  complete  discomfiture. 
Napoleon,  in  his  military  criticisms,  while  censur- 
ing  severely  the   temerity  of  the  French  com- 
mander in  attacking  such  a  position  with  forces 
'  so  inadequate,  has  expressed  the  warmest  admira- 
tion of  his  conduct  in  the  fight.     It  was  in  refer- 
ence to  Enghien's  heroic  pertinacity,  in  persevering 
with  his  left  wing  at  Nordlingen,  after  the  rest  of 
his  army  had  been  swept  away,  that  the  great 
Emperor  used  the  following  memorable  words  : — 
^^The  glory  and   honour  of  his  country's  arms 
ought  to  be  the  first  and  highest  consideration 
with  a  general  who  engages  in  battle.     The  safety 
and  preservation  of  the  army  is  only  the  second. 
But  it  is  also  in  that  same  audacity  and  obstinacy, 
which  the  honour  and  glory  of  his  country's  arms 
demand,  that  the  safety  and  preservation  of  the 
army  is  found.     In  a  retreat,  besides  the  honour 


I 


84 

of  his  country's  arms,  he  will  often  lose  more  than 
in  two  battles — a  reason  never  to  despair  while 
brave  men  remain  around  the  standards.  By  this, 
victory  is  obtained ;  by  this,  it  is  merited/' 

So  great  was  the  slaughter  of  the  French  at 
Nordlingen  that  for  several  days  Enghien  could 
not  collect  fifteen  hundred  infantry.  Count 
Mercy  was  buried  on  the  field  of  battle.  The  in- 
scription on  his  tomb  was  not  unworthy  of  the 
warrior — "  Sta  Viator :  heroem  calcasJ* 

This  was  also  the  last  battle  of  John  of  Werth, 
who  retired  from  it  unmolested  with  his  victorious 
horsemen.  He  was  the  most  brilHant  and  enter- 
prising of  all  the  great  German  soldiers  of  his 
time.  As  a  leader  of  cavalry,  ho  had  no  equal. 
Like  Gassion,  he  owed  nothing  to  birth  or  fortune ; 
his  great  quahties  alone  had  raised  him  from  the 
ranks  of  the  ImperiaHst  army  to  the  highest 
command.  He  was  especially  famous  for  the 
daring  and  success  with  which  he  effected  sur- 
prises. The  secresy  and  skill  of  his  plans  were 
only  matched  by  the  force  and  rapidity  of  his 
blows.  More  than  one  hostile  generaPs  reputa- 
tion was  shattered  -,  more  than  one  hostile  army 
was  aroused  from  false  security  to  utter  destruc- 
tion by  the  irresistible  onset  of  John  of  Werth, 
falling  like  a  thunderbolt  out  of  a  clear  sky.  And 
his  splendid  talents  were  enhanced  by  a  purity  of 


85 

character  and  a  lofty  disinterestedness  which  shone 
brighter  from  being  placed  in  contrast  with  the 
spirit  of  rapine  and  the  lawless  brutality  so  con- 
spicuous in  most  of  the  renowned  commanders  of 
his  age  and  country. 

When  he  had  sufficiently  rested  and  reorganised 
his  shattered  forces,  Enghien  laid  siege  to  Heil- 
bronn ;  but  the  fatigues  and  excitement  he  had 
undergone  induced  a  brain-fever  which  brought 
him  to  the  brink  of  the  grave.  He  was  carried 
in  a  litter  to  Phillipsburg,  and  profusely  bled, 
under  which  treatment  he  recovered  slowly,  and 
was  unable  to  take  any  further  part  in  the  cam- 
paign. Illness  and  loss  of  blood  had  the  effect  of 
extinguishing  his  passion  for  Mile.  Vigean.  The 
burning  ardour  of  his  addresses  to  her  during  the 
previous  winter  sank,  on  his  return  to  Paris,  at 
once,  without  any  premonitory  gradations,  to  re- 
pelUng  coldness ;  and  in  her  grief  and  chagrin  at 
this  unlooked-for  fickleness,  she  retired  into  a 
convent  and  took  the  veil. 

All  parties  in  Germany  were  now  thoroughly 
exhausted  by  the  fierce  warfare  which  had  deso- 
lated the  land  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century; 
and  the  negotiations  for  a  general  peace,  which 
had  been  prosecuted  fitfully  at  Munster  since 
1643,  were  renewed  in  a  more  earnest  spirit. 
Hostilities  languished  during  the  year  1646,  but 


V 


86 

were  not  interrupted.  Turenne,  at  the  head  of 
the  French  army^  pursued  a  successful  career, 
but  the  campaign  was  not  marked  by  any  great 
battle. 

In  Flanders  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  elated  by  the 
capture  of  Corutras  in  the  preceding  campaign, 
again  claimed  the  command,  and  Enghien,  im- 
patient of  inaction,  volunteered  to  serve  under  his 
incapable  cousin.  His  bold  schemes  of  conquest 
were  unpalatable  to  the  timid  mind  of  the  Lieut.- 
General,  and  the  army  sat  down  before  Mardyke. 
The  young  Duke  was  the  soul  of  the  operations, 
pressing  the  siege  with  extraordinary  vigour,  and 
courting  danger  at  every  opportunity  with  his 
usual  recklessness.  On  one  occasion,  having 
passed  the  whole  night  in  the  trenches,  he  was 
refreshing  himself  in  his  tent  with  a  party  of 
friends,  when  an  alarm  was  given  that  the  garri- 
son had  made  a  sally,  slaughtered  the  French 
gunners,  and  destroyed  the  works.  Enghien, 
without  waiting  to  put  on  his  armour,  rushed 
forth,  followed  by  his  companions,  and  attacked 
the  enemy  sword  in  hand.  He  must  inevitably 
have  been  killed  or  taken  had  not  Bussy  Rabutin 
galloped  up  to  his  assistance  with  his  company  of 
light  horse.  Bussy  found  him  laying  about  him 
with  fury,  and  covered  with  the  blood  of  his  foes. 
The  Spaniards  were  ultimately  driven  back  into 


87 


the  town,  but  not  until  they  had  made  prodigious 
havoc  amongst  the  young  French  nobility. 

The  Spanish  generals  in  the  Netherlands,  hav- 
ing at  length  drawn  together  their  forces,  advanced 
with  confidence  to  raise  the  siege,  despising  the 
incapacity  and  irresolution  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans. 
But  hardly  had  the  hostile  army  appeared  before 
the  French  lines  when  it  vanished,  unaccountably, 
in  the  night.  Enghien  next  morning  followed  in 
pursuit,  and  having  with  his  own  hand  captured  a 
young  Spanish  officer,  demanded  of  him  the  cause 
of  this  sudden  retreat.  The  Spaniard,  wholly  un- 
suspicious of  the  rank  of  his  captor,  answered 
simply  that  the  Spanish  commanders  had  heard 
that  the  Duke  of  Enghien  was  in  the  French  camp. 
Mardyke,  being  thus  abandoned  to  its  fate,  sur- 
rendered ;  and  Orleans,  satiated  with  victory,  re- 
turned to  flaunt  his  laurels  before  the  admiring 
eyes  of  the  good  citizens  of  Paris.  So  intoxicated 
was  this  vain  prince  with  his  achievement  in  this 
and  the  preceding  campaigns — achievements 
chiefly  attributable  to  the  assistance  of  Marshal 
la  Meillerai  and  Enghien  —that,  quite  unconscious 
of  the  ridicule  provoked  by  such  a  comparison,  he 
assumed  the  glorious  surname  which  the  admi- 
ration of  antiquity  had  conferred  on  the  son  of 
Antigonus,  and  signed  his  letters  Gaston  Polior- 
cetes. 


88 


The  capture  of  Dunkirk  had  long  been  an  ob- 
ject of  ardent  desire  to  the  French  nation,  but  the 
difficulties  of  the  enterprise  had  hitherto  deterred 
any  French  general  from  attempting  it.  No 
sooner,  however,  was  Enghien  free  to  act  for  him- 
self, than  he  marched  against  the  place.  Not- 
withstanding the  apparently  insuperable  obstacles, 
natural  and  artificial,  that  impeded  his  operations, 
the  efforts  of  two  Spanish  armies,  each  equal  in 
strength  to  his  own,  and  the  gallant  resistance  of 
the  garrison,  by  skill  and  patience  he  compelled 
the  city  to  surrender.  The  news  was  received  in 
Paris  with  joy  and  wonder.  "  I  think,"  wrote 
Voiture  to  him,  "  if  you  undertook  it  you  would 
catch  the  moon  with  your  teeth."  This  import- 
ant conquest  brought  the  campaign  of  1646  to  a 
close. 

The  course  of  this  year  had  wrought  a  moment- 
ous change  in  Enghien^s  position.  During  the 
summer  his  brother-in-law,  the  Duke  of  Breze, 
whom  Cardinal  Richelieu  had  made  High  Admiral 
of  France,  was  killed  in  a  naval  engagement  off 
the  coast  of  Tuscany.  Enghien  immediately 
claimed  the  post,  and  his  pretensions  were  sup- 
ported by  the  whole  influence  of  his  family.  But 
weighty  considerations,  public  and  private,  de- 
termined the  Government  to  refuse  his  demand. 
The  House  of  Cond^  already  engrossed  a  dangerous 


89 

share   of  authority  in  the  kingdom.      The  old 
prince,  besides  his  governments  of  Burgundy  and 
Bern,  held  the  offices  of  President  of  the  Council 
and  Grand  Master,  together  with  various  minor 
appointments  conferring  emolument  and  power. 
The  Duke,  his  son,  was  Governor  of  Champagne, 
possessed  the  strong  frontier  town  of  Stenay,  and 
was  the  idol  of  the  army.     To  confer  on  a  young 
warrior,  whose  ardent  genius  would   even  now 
scarcely  brook  the  slightest  control,  and  who  was 
so  near  the  throne,  the  supreme  command  of  aU 
the  sea  forces  of  the  country,  would  be   a  fatal 
blunder    on    the   part    of    the   Regent.      More- 
over, Cardinal  Mazarin  meant  to  use  the  great 
^office  now  vacant,  at  once  to  fortify  his  political 
position,  and  to  promote  his  schemes  of  family 
ambition.     He  contemplated  a  close  alliance  with 
the  House  of  Vendome,  which  stood  at  the  head  of 
the  party  of  the  great  nobles  with  which  he  was  at 
variance.   A  matrimonial  union  between  the  young 
Duke  of  Mercceur,  heir  of  Vendome,  and  one  of 
his  nieces,  was  the  object  of  his  secret  aspirations ; 
and  the  splendid  dower  of   Admiral  of   France 
would  bridge  over  the  social  chasm  that  separated 
the  daughter  of  an  obscure  Italian  gentleman  from 
the  grandson  of  Henry  lY.     In  order  to  soften  as 
much  as  possible  her  denial  of  Enghien^s  request, 
Anne  of  Austria  announced  her  intention  of  as- 


90 


Burning  to  herself  the  vacant  post,  under  the  title 
of  Superintendent  of  the  Seas.     But  the  resent- 
ment  which  the   refusal  called    forth   from  the 
whole  family  of  Conde  was  none  the  less  violent. 
The  Duke  stormed  and  pressed  his  demand  with 
intemperate  urgency ;  and  Conde,  irritated  out  of 
his  usual  prudence,  used  menacing  language,  and 
withdrew  in  high  anger  to  his  Government   of 
Burgundy.     The  Kegent  met  this  outburst  with 
spirit ;  but  Mazarin  quailed,  and  by  submissive 
entreaties  induced  Conde  to  return  to  Court  in 
order  to  negotiate  an  arrangement.     Three  days 
after  his  arrival  at  Chantilly  the  old  Prince  died. 
Although    not  distinguished    either  for   shining 
talents  or  for  integrity  of  character,  his  death  at 
this  conjuncture  was  a  public  calamity.     France 
could  have  better  spared  a  far  greater  man.     His 
clear  and  penetrating  intellect,  his  long  experience, 
his   great   sagacity,   even   the   selfishness   which 
rendered  him  cautious,  the  authority   which   his 
rank,  wealth,  and  knowledge  of  the  business  of 
the  State  gave  him,  and  above  all  the  restraining 
influence  which  he  alone  exercised  over  his  fiery 
and  wayward  son,  would  have  been  invaluable  to 
the  government  in  the  stormy  times  that  were  fast 
approaching.      Starting  in  life  a  dependent  on 
the  bounty  of  Henry  IV.,  he  left  to  his  successor 
an  income  of  one  million  livres — enormous  in  that 


91 


age.  Anne  of  Austria  had  conferred  on  him  the 
vast  possessions  of  the  House  of  Montmorenci, 
forfeited  to  the  Crown  at  the  execution  of  the  last 
Duke  in  1632.  If  the  portrait  we  have  of  him  from 
the  pen  of  Madame  de  Motteville,  as  he  figured  at 
the  Court  of  the  Regent,  ugly  and  uncleanly,  with 
red  eyes,  matted  beard  and  greasy  hair,  at  all  cor- 
responds with  his  appearance  in  his  youth,  there 
is  some  excuse  for  the  unconjugal  bearing  of  the 
fair  Charlotte  of  Montmorenci.  Indeed,  the 
Marchioness  of  Rambouillet  used  to  say  that  the 
princess  only  passed  two  happy  days  with  her 
husband — the  day  of  her  marriage,  which  raised 
her  to  a  place  in  the  royal  family  of  France,  and 
"the  day  of  his  death,  which  restored  to  her  liberty. 
The  Queen  and  Cardinal  Mazarin,  in  order  to 
remove  all  traces  of  dissatisfaction  from  the  mind 
of  the  new  Prince  of  Conde,  and  to  bind  him 
completely  to  their  interests,  hastened  to  anticipate 
and  to  surpass  in  lavish  concessions  his  reasonable  ; 
expectations  of  Court  favour.  He  was  made| 
Captain- General  of  the  Armies  of  France,  and! 
invested  at  once  with  all  the  offices  and  employ- ! 
ments  held  by  his  father,  with  the  single  stipula- . 
tion  that  he  should  discontinue  his  opposition  to 
the  arrangement  which  left  unfilled  the  place  of 
High  Admiral.  The  Government  of  Champagne 
was  given  to   his  younger  brother,  the  Prince  of 


92 


Conti.     Conde,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  was  not 
only  the  most  renowned  personage,  but  the  most 
powerful    subject    in   Europe,    with   unbounded 
opportunities  of  achieving  all  greatness  to  which 
the  legitimate   ambition   of  a   subject  can  aspire. 
But   though  at   first   evidently  overcome  by  the 
unexpected  generosity  of  the  Regent,  he  did  not 
long  remain  satisfied.     Extravagant   projects   of 
personal  ambition  began   to  fill  his  mind.     Con- 
tinually followed   by  the   flower  of   the   young 
French  nobility,  who  imitating  on   all  occasions 
the  haughty  bearing  and  imperious  manners  of 
their  chief, obtained  the  nickname  of  Petits  Maitres, 
now  used  to  express  very  different  qualities ;   see- 
ing his  boldest   enterprises   crowned  by  fortune, 
and  his  will  a  law  to  all  around  him,  subjection 
even  in  its  lightest  and  most  splendid  form  was 
becoming  irksome  to    him.       He    proposed    to 
Mazarin   to   conquer   Franche    Compte,    then   a 
Spanish  province,  at  his  own  charge,  and  retain 
it  as  an  independent  sovereignty.     But   the  Car- 
dinal, knowing  well   that  the  Prince  would  be  a 
far  more  dangerous  neighbour  to  Louis  XIY.  than 
the  King   of   Spain,   evaded    comphance.     This 
refusal  led  to  renewed  bickerings,  which  went  on 
increasing  in  bitterness  till  Conde  was  induced,  in 
the  spring  of  1647,  to  take  the  command  of  the 
French  army  in  Catalonia,  where  two  generals  of 


93 


distinction,  Marshal  la  Mothe  Houdincourt  and 
the  Count  of  Harcourt,  had  lately  met  with  signal 
reverses. 

Many  of  the  leading  incidents  of  the  Princess 
operations  this  year  are  recorded  with  inimitable 
felicity  in  the  lively  memoirs  of  Count  Gram- 
mont,  who  with  many  other  brilliant  and  dissolute 
Petits  Maitres,  accompanied  their  leader  into 
Spain.  When  Conde  arrived  at  Barcelona,  the 
citizens,  seeing  a  youth  with  long  hair,  simply 
attired  in  black,  did  not  conceal  their  contempt. 
It  became  a  general  subject  of  complaint  amongst 
them  that  the  French  Government  had  sent  them 
a  student  and  not  a  general.  But  when  after  a 
few  days  the  Prince  rode  forth  through  the  city 
magnificently  dressed  and  followed  by  a  splendid 
suite,  they  at  once  recognised  the  hero,  and  re- 
ceived him  with  the  utmost  enthusiasm.  He 
found  his  army  in  a  deplorable  state  of  inefficiency, 
in  want  of  food,  ammunition,  and  the  means  of 
transport.  Nevertheless,  he  marched  without 
delay  against  the  town  of  Lerida,  which  had  lately 
repulsed  the  Count  of  Harcourt  from  its  walls^ 
with  disgrace. 

Lerida,  the  Herda  of  the  Eomans,  looking  on 
the  country  which  was  the  scene  of  Julius  Caesar^s 
celebrated  campaign  against  the  lieutenants  of 
Pompeius,   was  not    a    place  of  great  strength. 


94 


But  the  Spaniards  have  always,  even  in  their  most 
degenerate  days,  been  formidable  behind  stone 
walls  ;  and  the  town  had  for  its  commander  Don 
Gregorio  Brito,  an  old  Portuguese  officer  of  some- 
what whimsical  character^  but  of  rare  merit.  The 
French  general,  filled  with  presumption  on  account 
of  so  many  victories,  and  despising  the  place  and 
its  old-fashioned  governor,  began  the  siege  with 
an  insolent  display  which  would  have  ill  become 
its  triumphant  close.  He  opened  the  trenches  in 
person,  at  the  head  of  his  own  regiment,  to  the 
music  of  twenty-four  violins ;  and  afterwards 
passed  the  evening  in  revelry  amidst  the  works. 
Brito  made  no  sign  until  night  had  fallen ;  then 
sallying  forth  under  cover  of  a  terrific  fire  from 
the  cannon  on  the  ramparts,  he  swept  the  trenches, 
destroyed  the  labours  of  the  French  engineers, 
and  drove  back  the  besiegers  in  confusion  to  their 
camp.  The  next  morning  he  sent  his  crest-fallen 
antagonist  a  complimentary  message,  with  a 
present  of  iced  fruit,  regretting  his  inability  to 
return  the  serenade  in  consequence  of  his  want  of 
vioHns,  but  assuring  the  Prince  that  if  the  music 
he  had  provided  the  night  before  had  proved 
agreeable,  he  would  endeavour  to  keep  it  up  so 
long  as  the  French  did  him  the  honour  to  remain 
before  Lerida.  The  eccentric  Portuguese  was  a 
man  of  his  word.     He  did  not  leave  the  besiegers 


95 


a  moment's  repose,  and  repulsed  all  their  assaults 
with  fearful  slaughter.     His  vigorous  sallies,  the 
rocky   nature   of  the   soil,   the   want   of   proper 
engineering  tools,  and  other  necessary  supplies, 
protracted  the  siege  until  the  tardy  approach  of 
a    Spanish    army,    and   the   scorching   heat    of 
summer,  with  its  train   of  diseases,  forced  even 
Conde,  almost  beside  himself  with  rage  and  cha- 
grin,  to   resign   all  hope  of  success.     When  the 
relieving   force   of  the   Spaniards   appeared,    he 
drew   off  his  troops,  sadly  reduced  by  sickness 
and  the  sword.     His  reverse,  the  first  he  had  yet 
experienced,   was    bitterly   mortifying    to    him, 
especially  when  he  learned  that  the  wits  of  Paris 
were  diverting  themselves  at  his  expense.   People 
had  been  so  accustomed  to  consider  him  invincible, 
that  his  defeat  was   magnified  far  beyond  its  real 
importance,   and  his  reputation   suffered  in  pro- 
portion.    He   tried    every  expedient  to  bring  the 
Spanish  general  to   a   battle,  but  the  latter  pru- 
dently kept  his  men  in  a  strong  position,  protected 
by  the  guns  of  Lerida.     Indeed,  it  is  said  that 
the  King  of  Spain  never  wrote   to   him  without 
adding  as  a  postscript,  "■  Above   all  things  take 
good  care  never  to   engage   in  battle  with  that 
presumptuous    youth.''      The    campaign    ended 
without  any  other  military  event  worthy  of  note. 
It  was  during  the  siege  of  Lerida  that  the  famous. 


96 


or  rather  infamous,  revel  of  La  Yalliere  furnished 
a  horrible  picture  of  the  reckless  and  ferocious 
gaiety  of  the  young  French  nobles.  The  Chevalier 
of  la  Yalliere,  a  Marechal  de  .Camp  of  high  lin- 
eage, being  on  duty,  in  the  beginning  of  June,  at 
the  quarters  of  Marshal  Grammont,  invited  the 
celebrated  Bussy  Rabutin,  and  three  other  young 
officers,  named  Brabantane,  Breteche  and  Jumeaux, 
to  dine  with  him  at  the  mouth  of  the  trenches. 
Seeking  relief  from  the  tedium  of  camp  life,  the 
guests  assembled  some  hours  before  the  appointed 
time.  Breakfast  was  served  to  them,  and  the 
Prince's  band  enlivened  the  repast  with  military 
music.  The  part  of  the  trenches  where  they 
were,  pierced  through  the  walls  of  an  old  church- 
yard. Brabantane  and  Breteche,  moved  by  a 
diabolical  spirit  of  pleasantry,  entered  through  the 
breach,  tore  off  the  stone  cover  of  one  of  the  tombs, 
and  dragging  forth  a  recently  buried  corpse, 
wrapped  in  its  grave-clothes,  made  it  dance  to 
the  sound  of  the  violins.  After  amusing  them- 
selves in  this  way  for  some  time,  their  companions 
prevailed  on  them  to  restore  the  dead  body  to  its 
resting-place.  The  party  passed  several  hours 
after  dinner  in  what  Bussy  Rabutin  acknowledges  to 
have  been  a  great  debauch,  singing  the  ribald  songs, 
compounded  of  blasphemy  and  licentiousness,  then 
in  vogue  at  Paris.     In  the  midst  of  the  Bacchan- 


97 

alian  uproar  the  Marquis  of  la  Trousse  arrived  to 
go  the  round  of  the  works  with  La  VaUiere  before 
reheving  him  at  his  post.     The  latter  started  up, 
teUing  his  friends  not  to  disturb  themselves  as  he 
would  return  immediately.     La  Trousse  was  ac- 
customed, in  a  spirit  of  bravado  which  he  mistook 
for  heroism,  to  walk  on  the  outside  of  the  trenches, 
and  thus  expose  his  person,  without  any  rational 
object,  to  the  enemy's  fire.     La  YalHere,  not  to  be 
out-done  in  folly,  followed  his  companion's  ex- 
ample, and  had  hardly  gone  a  few  paces  when  his 
skull  was   shattered  to    pieces  by  a  ball.     His 
guests,  quite   unmoved  by  the  news,  continued 
their  revel,  with  the  exception  of  Jumeaux,  who 
rushed  off  to  ask  the  Prince  for  a  post  that  had 
been  held  by  his  friend.     The  incidents  of  this  re- 
volting banquet,  almost  incredible  as  they  appear 
to  us,  would  not  at  that  period  have  challenged 
particular  notoriety,  had  not  the  calamities  that 
overtook  most  of  the  actors  in  the  hideous  scene, 
and  the  popular  belief  that  the  outraged  remains 
were  the  body    of  a  saint,   awakened    unusual 
curiosity  and  horror.     The  conduct  of  the  officers 
does  not,  however,  appear  to  have  been  made  a 
subject  of  official  comment,  or  to  have  ehcited  any 
mark  of  disapprobation  from  Conde  or  the  Regent. 
The  check  he  met  with  before  Lerida  did  not 
tend  to  soothe  the  irritation  which  the  Prince  had 


VOL.    I. 


7 


98 


99 


cherished  against  Cardinal  Mazarin  on  account  of 
imaginary  grievances ;  and  the  destitute  condition 
of  the  French  army  in  Spain,  which  had  been  a 
main  cause  of  his  ill-success,  furnished  him  with  a 
juster  ground  of  anger.  His  complaints  on  his 
return  to  Court  were  loud  and  vehement ;  but  his 
support  was  too  necessary  to  the  government  in 
the  difficulties  and  dangers  that  now  beset  it,  to 
permit  the  Eegent  or  the  Minister  to  show  offence 
at  his  language.  Mazarin,  bending  as  was  his 
wont  before  the  storm,  strove  to  propitiate  his  im- 
perious protector  by  flatteries  and  submission, 
and  by  straining  to  the  utmost,  in  desperate  ex- 
pedients, the  crippled  resources  of  the  monarchy 
in  order  to  place  the  army  of  Flanders,  which 
Conde  chose  for  himself,  on  an  efficient  footing  for 
the  campaign  of  1648. 

The  position  of  France  was  now  extremely 
critical.  A  long  and  costly  war,  and  a  corrupt  ad- 
ministration, had  ruined  the  finances  and  impov- 
erished the  people ;  and  ill-advised  measures  of 
taxation  had  aroused  an  opposition  in  the  capital 
formidable  for  its  character  and  its  strength,  and 
every  day  growing  in  iafluence  and  intensity.  The 
government  could  no  longer  obtain  the  most 
needful  supplies.  The  State  was  threatened  with 
paralysis.  And  during  Conde^s  absence  in  Spain, 
the  Archduke  Leopold    had   carried  everything 


before  him  on  the  Flemish  frontier.  He  was  now- 
preparing  to  invade  Picardy  at  the  head  of  a  well- 
appointed  army.  A  decisive  victory  could  alone 
avert  from  France  the  disgrace  of  invasion,  or  a 
humihating  peace. 

Conde,  having  generously  advanced  out  of  his 
own  revenues  the  funds  required  to  complete  the 
equipment  of  his  army,  set  out  to  oppose  the  Arch- 
duke, who  lay   with   eighteen  thousand  men,  in- 
cluding the  veteran  bands  of  the  despoiled  Duke 
of   Lorraine,   on  the  borders  of   Picardy.      But 
hardly  had  the  first  movements  of  the  campaign 
begun,   when  Anne  of   Austria  recalled  him  to 
Paris   to  advise  her  how  to  resist  the  urgent  de- 
mands of  the  Parliament.      During  his  absence 
Leopold  entered  France,  and  having  pubhshed  an 
insulting  manifesto  offering  a  reward  for  the  dis- 
covery of  the  French  army,  sought  for  everywhere 
in  vain  and  supposed  to  be  lost,  laid  siege  to  the 
town  of  Lens.     Conde  hastened  back  with  fourteen 
thousand  men  and  eighteen  guns,  to  reheve  the 
place,  but  only  arrived  to  see  it  surrender  to  the 
enemy,  who  then  took  up  a  strongly  entrenched 
position  under  its  walls.     The  Archduke  calculated 
that  the  impetuous  temper  of  his  antagonist  would 
impel   him,    notwithstanding    his   inferiority  in 
numbers,  to  assault  the  Spanish  lines.     But  Cond^ 
had  not  fought  the  desperate  battles  of  Fribourg 

F  2 


100 


and  Nordlingen,  and  been  repulsed  with  disgrace 
from  the  walls  of  Lerida,  without  learning  the 
prudence  which  had  alone  been  wanting  to  him  of 
the  quahfications  of  a  consummate  general.  Instead 
of  the  rash  tactics,  hardly  redeemed  by  extra- 
ordinary genius  from  the  reproach  of  f oolhardiness, 
which  had  marked  his  previous  campaigns,  he  put 
in  practice  a  manoeuvre,  not  more  bold  than 
masterly,  for  the  purpose  of  enticing  the  enemy 
from  his  fortified  camp. 

Breaking  up  his  own  encampment  in  open  day, 
he  retired  slowly  over  the  undulating  plain  which 
stretched  away  from  Lens,  and  which  he  had 
carefully  studied.  Marshal  Grammont  led  the 
French  van ;  the  Prince  followed  with  the  main 
body,  and  the  Marquis  of  Noirmoutier,  with  a 
strong  force  of  cavaby,  brought  up  the  rear.  On 
seeing  the  retrograde  movement  of  the  French, 
General  Beck,  with  the  troopers  of  Lorraine, 
issued  from  the  Spanish  lines  to  harass  their  re- 
treat, and  charging  the  rear  guard,  threw  it  into 
disorder.  Reinforcements  arrived  for  Noir- 
moutier, but  Beck,  also  supported  from  his  own 
side,  continued  to  gain  ground,  till  at  length  the 
Archduke,  thinking  the  decisive  moment  had 
come  for  destroying  the  whole  French  army, 
advanced  with  all  his  forces  into  the  plain. 
Meanwhile  Cond^  had  drawn  up  his  infantry  and 
artillery  upon  a  gentle  eminence,  and  had  sent 


101 


orders  to    Grammont  to  return    at  full    speed. 
In   order  to  release  his  rear  guard,  now  sorely 
pressed,  and  to  gain  time  for  the  Marshal  to  come 
up,  he  charged  the  enemy  in  person  at  the  head 
of  aU  his  remaining  cavalry.      But  one  of  those 
unaccountable  panics,   to  which  even  the  best 
troops  are  subject,  seizing  his  men  while  in  full 
career,  they  suddenly  wheeled  round  and  galloped 
back  to  seek  shelter  behind  their   guns.      The 
Archduke  and  Beck  followed  up  their  advantage 
with  such  vigour  that,  notwithstanding  the  firm 
bearing  of  Conde's  infantry  and  gunners,  and  his 
own  desperate  efforts  to  rally  the  fugitives,  the 
battle  was    almost    lost,    when    Grammont    ap- 
peared.    Then   the  fortune   of  the  day  turned. 
The  Marshal,  charging  with  his  usual  impetuosity, 
checked  the  victorious  progress  of  the  Lorraine 
horse.       Conde  only  required  a  short  respite  to 
re-form  his  squadrons,  restore  their  confidence, 
and  lead  them  back  into  the  fight  with  the  martial 
fury  which  no  enemy  had  ever  yet  been  able  to 
withstand.      The  troops  of  Spain  and  Lorraine 
fought  with  the  most  determined  gallantry.     The 
Archduke  performed  the  part  of  an  able  general 
and  a  brave  soldier.      General  Beck  more  than 
sustained  his  high  renown;    but   when  he   fell, 
mortally  wounded,  his  men,  disheartened  by  his 
loss,  relaxed  their  efforts  and  were  driven  from 


102 


the  field.     Leopold   escaped    with  difficulty   by 
a  precipitate   flight;  all  his    infantry,   artillery, 
and  baggage  were  captured.      The  victory  of  the 
French  was  the  most  complete  of  any  in  that  age. 
Conde,   as    usual,   had  exposed   himself  to  the 
greatest    dangers.       Two     of  his    pages    were 
knied  at  his   side  during  the  battle;    but  his 
greatest  peril  was  incurred  when  the  pursuit  was 
over.      Meeting   Grammont    as  they  both  were 
returning  in  the  evening  to  the  French  camp,  he 
rode  forward  to   embrace    the  Marshal.      Their 
horses,     which      had     been      perfectly     docile 
during  the  day,  no  sooner  drew  together  than,  as 
if   possessed  by  furies,  they  rushed  upon   each 
other,  and  strove  to  tear  each  other  to  pieces.     A 
timely  pistol  shot  through  the  head  of  the  Mar- 
shal's  charger    saved    both    riders    from   being 
frightfully  lacerated. 

The  victory  of  Lens  was  the  crowning  glory  of 
France  in  the  long  and  exhausting  struggle  to 
which  Cardinal  Eichelieu  had  challenged  the  house 
of  Austria;  it  brought  the  Thirty  Years'  War 
to  a  close.  Spain  indeed,  having  concluded  a 
separate  truce  with  Holland,  refused  to  be  included 
in  the  treaty  of  WestphaHa ;  but,  crippled  in 
power,  and  destitute  of  allies,  her  feeble  and 
desultory  efforts  could  not  have  been  prolonged, 
had  not  the  internal  troubles  of  France  afforded 


103 


her  a  breathing  time,  and  eventually  enlisted  in 
her  support  the  most  terrible  of  her  foes.  Hardly 
had  the  battle  been  won  when  Conde  was  sum- 
moned to  lead  his  victorious  army  against  the 
insurgent  city  of  Paris.  The  Civil  War  of  the 
Fronde,  a  conflict  unique  in  the  voluminous  annals 
of  faction,  had  broken  out  in  France.  In  order 
to  render  it  intelligible,  it  is  necessary  to  pass  in 
brief  review  the  state  of  the  kingdom  during  the 
reign  of  Louis  XIII.  and  the  earlier  years  of  the 
Kegency  of  Anne  of  Austria. 


104 


CHAPTER  III. 


The    history    of    the  reign   of  Louis  XIII.   of 
France  is  in  all  important  points  the  history  of  the 
rule  of  Cardinal  Eichelieu.     The  royal  authority, 
during  the  first  twelve  years  of  that  reign,  had 
fallen  into  a  state  of   impotency  and  contempt 
unknown,  except  for  a  short  period  preceding  and 
succeeding  the  death  of  Henry  III.,  during  the 
previous  century  and  a  half.     The  relations  of  the 
great  nobles  of  the  kingdom  to  their  sovereign 
bore  a  much  nearer  resemblance  to   the   feudal 
anarchy   that   had   existed   before   the   reign   of 
Louis  XI.,  than  to  the  loyal  obedience  which  up- 
held the  brilHant  despotism  of   Francis  I.     The 
wars  of  the  League  had  restored  much   of  their 
ancient  power.     Henry  lY.,  in  bringing  the  long 
religious   strife  to   a   close,  found   it  necessary  to 
make  concessions  to  his  potent  subjects.  Catholic 
and   Huguenot,    which  stripped  the  crown  of  a 
great  part  of  its  authority.     At  his  death,  Mary 
of  Medicis,  assuming  the  Regency   during  the 


105 


minority  of  her  son,  a  sickly  boy  only  nine  years 
old,   dismissed   Sully,  Yilleroi,  and  the  other  ex- 
perienced ministers  of  her  husband,  and  delivered 
the  reins  of  government  into  the  hands  of  her 
low-born  and  rapacious  Italian  favourite  Concini, 
whom  she  created  Marshal  of  France  and  Marquis 
of  Ancre.      The  Princes  of   the  blood,  the  great 
Catholic  nobles,  the  powerful  Huguenot  connexion, 
indignant  at  the  rule  of  an  insolent  upstart,  and 
counselled  by   the  discarded   ministers,  plunged 
into  revolt,  wrung  humiliating  concessions  from 
the   Regent— who  sacrificed  the  interests  of  her 
son  to  her  blind  partiality  for  Concini's  wife — 
and  kept  the  kingdom  for  years  in  constant  tur- 
moil.    No  sooner  was  one  Civil  War  appeased  by 
lavish  grants  than  another  broke  out  in  some  rival 

interest. 

At  length,  in  the  year  1617,  the  young  King, 

at  the  instigation  of  a  gentleman  of  his  household, 
named  De  Luynes,  who  had  acquired  complete 
mastery  over  the  feeble  and  suspicious  mind  of  his 
sovereign  by  his  aptitude  in  the  childish  amuse- 
ments—the snaring  of  small  birds,  the  carving  of 
little  shrines,  the  painting  of  little  pictures,  the 
beating  of  drums— in  which  Louis  delighted, 
ordered  Vitry,  Captain  of  his  Guards,  to  arrest 
Concini,  giving  special  instructions  for  the  use  of 
force  in  case  of  resistance.     Vitry  was  a  wiUing 

F  5 


106 


and   nnscrupulous  instrument.      The  bait   of   a 
MarshaPs  baton  was  dangled  before  his  eyes  by 
De  Luynes ;  and  without  troubling  himself  about 
the  formality   of  resistance  on  the  part  of  his 
victim,  he  despatched  Marshal  D'Ancre  in  the 
court-yard  of  the  Louvre.     Louis,  throwing  up  a 
window,  applauded  the   deed.     Vitry  was  made 
Marshal  of  France  and  Duke.  De  Luynes,  created 
Duke  and  Peer,  Prime  Minister,  and  ultimately 
Constable,    was    endowed    with    the    enormous 
wealth    of   the  unhappy    Italian,    and   with   the 
matchless    diamonds   of  the   Italian's  more   un- 
happy wife,  who  was  beheaded  as  a  sorceress  on 
the  Place  de  Greve.     To  crown  the  fortunes  of 
the  aspiring  favourite    he    espoused    Marie    de 
Eohan,  only  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Montbazon, 
then   seventeen  years   old,   the   most    beautiful, 
witty,     wayward,     and     supremely     fascinating 
woman  of  her  time.     His  two  brothers,  obscure 
gentlemen,  were  also  made  Dukes  and  Peers,  and 
obtained  endowments  suitable  to  their  new  rank. 
The  queen-mother  was  deposed  from  power,  and 
exiled  to  the  castle  of  Blois. 

In  addition  to  extraordinary  personal  advan- 
tages, De  Luynes  possessed  gracious  manners, 
and  a  singularly  amiable  disposition,  which  dis- 
armed envy,  and  won  all  hearts;  but  he  was 
utterly  destitute  of  the  qualifications  needed  to 


107 

cope  with  the  evils  which  oppressed  the  State. 
His  ambition  was  limited  to  the  quiet  enjoyment 
of  the  splendid  position  to  which  the  royal  favour 
had  raised  him,  and  for  this  end  he  laboured, 
though  with  only  partial  success,  to   conciliate 
hostile  interests.      His    chief  danger,   however, 
arose  not  from  any   inimical    combination,   but 
from  the  fickleness  of  his  sovereign.     The  angry 
disgust  which,  after  a  few  years,  seized  the  jealous, 
moody  mind  of  Louis  at  the  astonishing  spectacle 
of  sudden  greatness,  which  was  the  work  of  his 
own  hands,  must  have  proved  fatal  to  the  whole 
family  of  De  Luynes  had  not  the  Constable's  death, 
at  the  end  of  the  year  1621,  prevented  his  inevit- 
able disgrace.     The  post  of  prime  minister  being 
now  vacant,  Mary  of  Medicis  resumed  her  old 
empire  over  the  mind  of  her  son.     The  first  use 
she  made  of  her  recovered  influence  was  to  obtain, 
much  against  the  King's  incUnations,  a  seat  in 
the  Privy  Council,  and  a  Cardinal's  hat  for  her 
Chancellor,  Jean  Armand  Duplessis  de  Eichelieu, 
Bishop  of  Lueon.     Then  began  that  extraordinary 
career  which  changed  the  face  of  France  and  of 

.  Europe. 

Whoever  would  know  what  the  genius  and 
energy  of  one  man  can  accomplish,  for  the  power 
and  glory  of  a  State,  should  study  the  history  of 
France  during  the  twenty  years'  administration  of 


108 


109 


Cardinal  Eichelieu.  In  1622  the  provinces  and 
strong  towns  of  the  kingdom  were  parcelled  out 
as  Governments,  many  of  them  held  by  hereditary 
tenure,  among  the  Princes  of  the  Blood  and  the 
high  nobility,  who  appointed  and  removed  all 
subordinate  functionaries  at  their  own  pleasure. 
In  Brittany  the  Duke  of  Vendome,  in  Guyenne 
the  Duke  of  Epemon,  in  Languedoc  the  Duke  of 
Montmorenci,  in  Champagne  the  Duke  of  Nevers, 
in  Burgundy  the  House  of  Lorraine-Guise,  sur- 
rounded by  populations  attached  to  them  by 
habits  of  obedience  or  feudal  ties,  could,  from 
behind  the  walls  of  numerous  strongholds,  bid 
defiance  to  the  King.  In  the  West  and  South 
the  Huguenot  community  claimed  nearly  all  the 
rights  of  an  independent  State.  They  refused 
submission  to  the  royal  mandates  until  these  were 
ratified  by  their  own  Synod,  and  made  treaties  of 
alliance  with  foreign  powers  upon  equal  terms. 
Many  of  the  most  potent  houses  in  France,  Eohan, 
La  Force,  Bouillon,  La  Tremouille,  Chatillon, 
Sully,  were  still  of  their  body.  Their  powerful 
mihtary  organisation,  and  the  possession  of  for- 
tresses of  great  strength,  enabled  them  to  brave 
with  impunity  the  anger  of  the  Government,  which 
their  turbulent  spirit  constantly  provoked.  It 
was  only  in  the  previous  year  that  Louis  and  the 
Constable  de  Luynes,    at    the  head   of  all  the 


\ 


\ 


military  force  the  Crown  could  muster,  were  re- 
pelled with  disgrace  from  the  Huguenot  town  of 
Montauban.  In  case  of  need  La  Eochelle  gave  easy 
access  to  the  succours  of  England;  and  the  Duke 
of  Bouillon's   independent  principality  of  Sedan 
threw  open  France  on  the  side  of  the  Netherlands. 
In  the  East  and  South,  the  Spanish  provinces  of 
Franche  Compte  and  Roussillon,  and  the  dominions 
of  the  Duke  of  Lorraine,  thrust  like  wedges  through 
the  frontier,  and  breaking  up  the  integrity  of  the 
kingdom,  were  a  perpetual  menace  to  its  security, 
and  afforded  support  and  refuge  to  malcontent 
nobles.      Ever-recurring  revolts,    vexatious    ex- 
actions and  restrictions,  paralysed  industry  and 
commerce.    Innumerable  feudal  courts,  possessing 
independent   and  conflicting  jurisdictions,  ham- 
pered the  dispensing  of  justice.     The  roads  were 
covered  with  robbers  and  assassins ;  nowhere  was 
there  any  security  for  life  or  property.     Even  in 
Paris,    in  addition   to  the  King's    Courts,    the 
Archbishop,    the    Abbess    of    Montmartre,  the 
Grand  Prior,  the   Abbot  of  St.   Germain,  and  a 
number  of  noblemen  exercised  separate  judicial 
rights.     The  safety  of  the  capital  was  confided  to 
forty-five   decrepit  watchmen;    and    crimes,    at 
which  humanity  shudders,  were  daily  perpetrated 
in  the  streets.     Such  was  the  internal  condition 
of  the  kingdom.     Abroad  its  influence  was  at  the 


no 


lowest  ebb.     Never  had  the  House  of  Austria 
been  more  united  or  triumphant.     The  strength 
of  the  great  Spanish  Monarchy,  though  waning, 
was   still  unbroken;    and    its   prestige  was  far 
greater   than  its    strength.       In    Germany  the 
Emperor,  Ferdinand  II.,  aided  by  his  able  ally, 
Maximilian  of  Bavaria,  was  acquiring  a  position 
of  power  and  preponderance,  for   which   Charles 
V.  had  striven  in  vain.     France,  weakened  by 
her  own  internal  dissensions,  could  only  look  on 
m  impotent  anger,  while  an  absolute  supremacy  in 
Europe  was  passing,  almost  without  a  struggle, 
into  the  hands  of  her  ancient  foes. 

It  was  the  ambition  of  Cardinal  Richelieu  to 
bring  into  subjection  the  unruly  forces  that  dis- 
tracted the  kingdom,  and  make  them  elements  of 
national  strength ;  to  build  up  from  the  chaotic 
materials  of  antiquated  feudalism  a  powerful  and 
united  monarchy,  which  might  dispute  the  supre- 
macy of  the  house  of  Austria  in  Europe.     Few 
men  ever  were  gifted  in  a  more  eminent  degree 
with  all  the  qualifications  of  a  great  ruler.     He 
had  splendid  genius,  prescient  and  fruitful,  capable 
of  conceiving  and  elaborating  the  most  stupendous 
designs ;  a  judgment  which  was  never  dazzled  by 
chimerical   schemes;    energy   and  resolution    to 
which  nothing  was  impossible.     Modest,  supple, 
affable,  haughty,  stern,  unrelenting,  according  to 


111 

circumstances,  he  seemed  to  combine  in  himself  a 
variety  of  characters ;  to  be  able  to  summon  up  at 
his  will  the  most  opposite  qualities  in  aid  of  his 
ambition.     Nothing   was   too   vast,  nothing   too 
minute,  for  the  grasp  of  his  intellect.    No  circum- 
stance, which  had  even  a  remote  bearing  on  his 
policy,  was  too  insignificant  for  his  care.     While 
transacting  all  the  more  important  business  of  a 
great  kingdom  seething  with  agitation,  and  in- 
volved in  complicated  foreign  relations,  and  at 
the  same  time  personally  directing  an  arduous 
campaign,  he   could   find  time  to  pen  elaborate 
instructions '  for  the    guidance  of    some   newly- 
appointed  Court   official.      Clear-sighted    in  his 
aims,  he  pursued  them  with  inexhaustible  fertility 
of  resource  and  unfaltering  determination.      As 
has  been  remarked  by  Bussy  Rabutin,  a  compe- 
tent and  contemporary  observer,  from  whom  the 
foregoing   estimate   of   Richelieu's   capacity  and 
character    has    been    largely    borrowed,    it    is 
difficult,  when  gazing  on  the  noble  features  lit  up 
by    refined    intellect  and    gracious    benignancy 
which   still  live  on  the    canvas   of  Philippe  de 
Champagne,  to  understand  his  terrible  reputation. 
In  truth,  ho  was  by  nature  mild  and  placable. 
But  the  imperious  necessities  of  his  policy ;  the 
unscrupulous  plots  of  princes  and  nobles,  in  con- 
cert with  the  foreign  enemies  of  the  realm,  against 


112 

liis  power  and  life^  for  selfish  ends;  the  treachery 
and  ingratitude  with  which  his  benefits  were  so 
often  repaid ;  and  doubtless^  in  some  measure,  the 
fierce  passions  which  wait  upon  a  perilous  career 
of    triumphant    ambition,   led    him    occasionally 
to  temper  justice  with  an  exceptional   severity, 
which  wore  the  odious  complexion  of  tyranny. 
With   the   doubtful  exception,   however,  of    the 
Duke  of  Montmorenci,  whose  life  was  justly  for- 
feited for  open  rebellion,  supported  by  foreign 
powers,  there  is  not  one  of  the  so-called  victims 
of  Richelieu  whose  character  or  designs  deserve 
the  slightest  sympathy.     Nor  were  any  of  his  acts 
tainted  with  the  perfidy  and  ingratitude  which 
marked  the   conduct   of   Henry   IV.   and   Sully 
towards  the  Duke  of  Biron. 

It  is  curious  to  note  how  sectarian  prejudice 
brands  as  crime  in  the  great  Cardinal  what  it 
lauds  as  virtue  in  the  great  Huguenot  Duke. 
Historians  who  extol  to  the  skies  the  wisdom  and 
patriotism  of  Sully  depict  Richelieu  in  the  darkest 
colours  as  a  tyrannical  oppressor.  Yet  the  policy 
of  the  two  ministers  was  essentially  identical. 
The  depression  of  the  great  nobles  and  the 
Huguenot  league  at  home,  the  depression  of  the 
house  of  Austria  abroad,  were  the  cherished  aims 
of  Sully— great  noble,  and  Huguenot  though  he 
was — as  they  afterwards  became  the  cherished 


113 

aims  of  Richelieu.  Both  ministers  laboured  for 
the  same  ends;  the  difference  was  that  the  second 
brought  to  the  work  a  far  bolder  genius  and  a 

stronger  will. 

If  Richelieu  was  a  redoubtable  enemy,  he  was 
the  most  constant  and  generous  of  friends.     For 
ability  and  devotion  in  his  service,  he  thought  no 
praise  excessive,  no  recompense  too  splendid.  And 
his  government  had  one  characteristic  which  dis- 
tinguishes it  honourably,  not  only  from  all  con- 
temporary  governments,  but   from  the   govern- 
ments of  all  other  leading  States  of  Europe  down 
to    quite  recent   times.      This   was    the    entire 
absence  of  religious  intolerance.     A  devout  be- 
liever in  the  creed   of  the  Church,  in  which  he 
held  exalted  rank,  and  in  an  age  when  religious 
animosities  were  running  high,  he  knew  no  dis- 
tinction of  belief  in  the  service  of  the  State.     He 
made  war  on  the  Huguenots,  not  as  a  dissenting 
sect,  but  as  a  political  community,  possessed  of 
exceptional  privileges  which  they  abused  to  the 
detriment  of  the  kingdom.     The  use  he  made  of 
their  complete  subjugation  was  to  place  them  in 
all  respects  on  an  equal  footing  with  the  Catholics. 
The    Dukes    of    Bouillon   and   Schomberg    and 
General  Gassion  commanded  French  armies  under 
his  administration,  and  the  last  two  enjoyed  his 
entire  confidence.     It  is  a  striking  satire  upon  the 


114 


value  of  the  claims  to  our  admiration  advanced 
most  boldly  by  writers  of  eminence  on  behalf  of 
communities  of  men^  and  accepted  by  these  com- 
munities themselves  with  the  most  complacent 
confidence  ;  a  curious  example  of  the  irony  of 
history,  that  the  principle  of  religious  freedom, 
which  Protestant  nations  always  made  their 
peculiar  boast,  and  almost  always  repressed  by 
cunning  systems  of  savage  intolerance,  one  of 
which,  framed  by  the  most  powerful  and  free  of 
them  all,  has  been  described  by  a  great  Protestant 
writer,  as  '^  more  terrible  than  the  ten  Christian 
persecutions,'^  was  practised  in  Catholic  France 
alone,  during  that  part  of  the  seventeenth  century 
when  the  kingdom  was  absolutely  governed  in 
succession  by  a  French  and  an  Italian  Cardinal, 
Eichelieu  and  Mazarin. 

Eichelieu  only  shares  the  common  fate  of  all 
great  men  who  have  been  successful,  and  whose 
careers  have  brought  them  into  collision  with 
powerful  interests,  in  having  his  merits  depre- 
ciated by  envy,  and  his  defects  exaggerated  by 
malignity.  There  is  nothing,  perhaps,  in  history 
which  gives  a  more  painful  shock  to  a  generous 
mind  than  the  revelation  of  the  infirmities  of  a 
glorious  spirit,  of  petty  and  degrading  feelings 
harboured  in  a  lofty  soulj  except  it  be  the  hideous 
joy  with  which  baser  natures  gloat  over  and  dis- 


115 


tort    failings  which  disfigure  natures,  in    other 
respects  God-like,  into  some  resemblance  to  them- 
selves.     Eicheheu's    opponents,    vanquished    in 
political  strife,  have  taken  a  dastardly  revenge  for 
his  superiority  in  their  memoirs.     It  may  freely 
be  admitted  that  neither  as  a  statesman  nor  as  a 
man  was  he  by  any  means  perfect.     The  irregular 
grandeur  of  his  character  cast  gigantic  shadows. 
As  a  ruler,  his  policy  struck  not  only  at  excessive 
privileges,  but  at  legitimate  rights ;  its  tendency 
was  to  crush  political  freedom  as  well  as  anarchy. 
It  may  be  said  in  extenuation  that  this  is  the  fault 
of  strong  governments  in  periods  of  disorder  and 
transition ;    that  considering  the  times   and  the 
country  in   which  he  lived,   and  the   work  he 
had  to  accomplish,  it  was  almost  inevitable ;  that 
anarchy  is  more  fatal  to  liberty  than  tyranny  itself. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  generous  and  enlightened 
patrons  of  men  of  genius  ;  one  of  the  most  zealous 
fosterers  of  literature  and  the  fine  arts  that  ever 
lived;  yet  his  treatment  of  the  illustrious  Corneille 
seems  to  have  been  inspired  by  resentments  of 
jealous  vanity  which   would  have  dishonoured  a 
starving  poetaster,  which  betray  kinship  with  the 
meanest  passions  of  his  countryman,  Voltaire.  The 
amusing  story  in   the  Memoirs  of  the  Count  of 
Brienne,  in  which  the  powerful  minister  is  de- 
scribed as  having  been  beguiled  by  Madame  de 


116 


Chevrense  into  dancing  a  saraband  in  appropriate 
trappings  of  green  velvet,  castanets,  and  silver 
bells,  in  order  to  win  the  love  of  Anne  of  Austria ; 
and  the  equally  circumstantial  accounts  of  his  mid- 
night interviews  in  masquerade  with  the  celebrated 
Marion  de  L'Orme,  would  seem  to  show  that  he 
discarded  alike  personal  dignity  and  professional 
decency  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure.      But  it  must 
in  fairness  be  taken  into  account,  that  these  anec- 
dotes emanate  from  his  deadly  enemies  at  one  of 
the  most  corrupt  and   unscrupulous  periods    of 
modern  history;    that  they  did  not   appear  till 
after  his  death,  when  authoritative  contradiction 
had  become  impossible ;  and  that  they  all  want  im- 
partial confirmation.     Anne  of  Austria,  in  her  un- 
reserved revelations,  many  years   afterwards,  to 
Madame  de  Motteville,  of  the  incidents  of    her 
married  life,  does  not  appear  to  have  known  any- 
thing of  the  story  of  the  saraband.     With  every 
deduction   which  justice  can  claim  on  account  of 
errors  and  shortcomings,  Richelieu  will  ever  rank 
among  the  master  spirits  of  the  world;  and  of  the 
many   illustrious   public  men  who  have  adorned 
France,  and  who  were  strictly  Frenchmen,  there 
are  few  indeed  who  can  boast  a  purer,  not  one 
who  can  boast  a  more  splendid  fame. 

The  difficulties  inherent   to  the  gigantic   task, 
which  Richelieu  set  himself  to  accomplish,  were 


117 


aggravated  by  weakness  or  perverse  opposition  in 
quarters  from  which  he  might  naturally  have  ex- 
pected the  most  strenuous  support.    Louis  XIII., 
shy,  ill-educated,  consumedby  morbid  melancholy, 
deeply  but  gloomily  religious,  a  prey  to  constantly 
recurring  fits  of  illness  which  brought  him  to  the 
brink  of  the  grave ;  devoted  to  unkingly,  if  inno- 
cent pursuits ;  incapable  of  governing  by  himself, 
yet  sensitively  jealous  of  the  appearance  of  control; 
and  easily  influenced  through  his  pecuHar  tastes ; 
his  smouldering   impatience  of  political  tutelage, 
and  his  conscientious  scruples,  could  only  be  ruled 
by  the  nicest  art  and  the  firmest  temper.     There 
were  in  the   Minister's  favour,  the  King's   des- 
potic tendencies,  passion  for  military  distinction, 
shrinking   disgust   under  the  burthen   of  State 
cares  to  which  he  felt  himself  unequal,  and  above 
all  the  enormous  faults    of    his   own    enemies. 
Though  RicheHeu  soon  succeeded  in  inspiring  his 
Sovereign  with  admiration  and  awe,  these,  and 
not  affection,  formed  the  link  that  bound  them 
together  to  the  end. 

Louis  had  been  married  at  the  age  of  fourteen, 
through  the  policy  of  Mary  of  Medicis,  to  Anne 
of  Austria,  eldest  daughter  of  Philip  III,  of  Spain, 
bom  in  the  same  year  as  himself.  Seldom  has 
there  been  a  more  uncongenial  union.  Anne  was 
beautiful,  proud  with  more  than  traditional  pride 


118 

of  her  race  and  country^  fond  of  admiration  and 
gaiety,  daring,  clever,  and  unscrupulous.  The 
cold  temperament  of  her  husband,  his  joyless 
mood,  which  found  its  chief  solace  in  singing  dreary 
ditties  of  his  own  composing,  and  in  prolonged 
fits  of  sullen  musing,  filled  her  with  disgust. 
Her  forced  subjection,  first  to  the  ascendency  of 
De  Luynes,  and  afterwards  to  the  control  of  the 
Queen-mother,  excited  her  bitter  indignation. 
The  precarious  health  of  her  husband,  by  con- 
stantly inspiring  her  with  fallacious  hopes  of 
release  from  irksome  ties,  prevented  her  schooling 
her  haughty  humour  into  the  submission  and  the 
show  of  sympathy  which  would  have  given  her 
dominion  over  his  mind.  And  after  a  time 
the  unbounded  influence  of  the  brilliant  and  dis- 
solute Duchess  of  Chevreuse  fortified  her  rebeUious 
spirit  and  corrupted  her  heart. 

Kicheheu,  on  assuming  the  direction  of  affairs, 
whether,  as  his  detractors  relate,  prompted  by  a 
frantic  passion,  or,  as  is  more  probable,  by  motives 
of  policy  and  good-feeling,  strenuously  endeavoured 
to  win  the  young  Queen's  favour.  But  Anne, 
counselled  by  Madame  de  Chevreuse,  rejected  his 
advances  with  scorn,  and  openly  proclaimed  her- 
self his  foe.  No  sooner  had  his  genius  asserted  its 
supremacy  in  the  royal  councils,  no  sooner  had  his 
pohcy  begun  to  unf oldi  tself,  than  they  naturally 


119 


provoked  fierce,  wide-spread  and  stubborn  antago- 
nism. As  the  immediate  and  obvious  effect  of  his 
measures  was  to  increase  the  authority  wielded 
by  himself,  he  seemed  to  the  great  majority  of 
Frenchmen,  while  really  working  out,  in  the 
interests  of  France  and  of  civilization,  an  inevitable 
political  and  social  revolution,  to  be  merely  obey- 
ing the  tyrannical  impulses  of  an  insatiable  per- 
sonal ambition.  The  great  Catholic  nobles,  the 
Huguenot  confederacy,  the  Princes  of  the  Blood, 
encouraged  by  the  open  or  secret  support  of 
England,  Spain,  and  Lorraine,  arrayed  themselves 
against  his  projects.  His  old  patroness,  Mary  of 
Medicis,  exasperated  at  the  independent  attitude 
towards  herself,  which  the  responsibilities  of  his 
position  compelled  him  to  assume,  conceived  for 
him  a  furious  hatred,  which  he  tried  in  vain  to 
appease  by  submission,  and  even  by  tears.  In 
concert  with  her  daughter-in-law  she  urged  her 
younger  son,  Gaston,  Duke  of  Orleans,  to  form 
leagues  with  foreign  powers  against  the  throne  of 
his  brother,  and  the  life  of  the  Minister,  the 
scheme  of  the  confederates  comprehending  the 
marriage  of  Anne  and  Gaston  in  the  probable 
event  of  the  King's  death  or  deposition.  Her 
importunities,  assailing  him  in  periods  of  sickness 
and  mental  prostration,  wrung  from  Louis  more 
than  once  a  solemn  pledge  to  dismiss  the  Cardinal 


120 


from  his  councils.     But  tlie  fortune  and  the  in- 
domitable will  of  Eichelieu  triumphed   over  all 
foes  and  all  obstacles.      The  Huguenots,  though 
aided  by  the  whole  power  of  England,  saw  their 
strongholds     captured  and  their  dangerous  pri- 
vileges abohshed.    The  Princes  of  the  Blood,  and 
the  great  nobles,  stripped  of  their  governments, 
hereditary  fief s,  and  independent  principalities, 
expiated  their  treason  by   death,   outlawry,   or 
imprisonment.      Mary  of  Medicis,   driven  from 
France,  died  in   exile  at  Cologne,  in  want  of  the 
necessaries  of  life.  Gaston  of  Orieans,  discredited 
by  the  incapacity,  cowardice  and  treachery,  that 
caused  the   destruction  of  his    accomplices  in  a 
succession  of  abortive  conspiracies,  lost  the  power 
of  doing  harm.    Anne  of  Austria  having  forfeited 
for  everthe  regard  and  respect  of  her  husband  by 
the  scandalous  levity  of  her  conduct,  her  anxiety 
to  marry  his  brother,  and   her  treasonable  cor- 
respondence with   the  enemies  of  the  kingdom, 
was  subjected  to  the  most  humihating  restraints, 
and  barely  escaped  destruction  by  throwing  her- 
self on  the  Cardinal's  mercy.     With  Louis  himself 
the  relations  of  his  Minister  at  last  bore  a  strong 
resemblance  to  those  which  had  existed  between 
the   Mayors  of  the  Palace  and  the  degenerate 
Sovereigns  of  the  Merovingian  dynasty ;  but  the 
blood  shed  in  the  field  and    upon  the  scaffold 


121 


cemented  not  only  the  ephemeral  authority  of  the 
Cardinal,  but  also  the  aggrandised  and  enduring 
authority  of  the  House  of  Bourbon.  Abroad,  the 
subsidies,  and  afterwards  the  armed  intervention, 
of  France,  enabled  Gustavus  Adolphus,  and  the 
Protestant  chiefs  who  succeeded  him  in  com- 
mand, to  crush  for  ever  the  power  of  the  Emperor; 
while  the  conquest  of  Roussillon  and  Lorraine,  the 
revolt  of  Catalonia,  and  the  occupation  of  Savoy, 
attested  the  humihation  of  Spain.  Even  the  grave 
could  not  conquer  the  strong  spirit  of  the  great 
Cardinal.  It  ruled  the  councils  of  France  long 
after  the  wasted  body,  its  earthly  tenement,  worn 
out  as  a  sword  wears  through  its  scabbard,  had 
become  dust.  His  dying  wishes  were  more  im- 
plicitly obeyed  than  ever  was  the  political  testa- 
ment of  a  King  of  France.  The  statesmen  whom 
he  had  formed  continued  after  his  death  to  direct 
the  Government ;  and  Cardinal  Mazarin,  whom  on 
his  death-bed  he  recommended  to  Louis  as  his 
successor,  followed,  though  with  unequal  steps,  in 
the  political  path  of  his  master. 

The  character  of  Cardinal  Mazarin,  who  is 
justly  entitled  to  a  foremost  place  among  great 
modem  statesmen,  was  cast  in  a  very  different 
mould  from  that  of  his  illustrious  predecessor. 
Crafty,  with  the  deep  and  subtle  craft  of  an  Italian 
poUtician,  wary  and  insinuating,  rather  than  enter- 

VOL.  I.  .     a 


122 


123 


prising  and  bold,  he  trusted  more  to  wiles  than  to 
vigorous  action,  and  never  resorted  to  force,  for 
the  compassing  of  an  object,  tiU  he  had  exhausted 
all  the  arts  of  persuasion  and  intrigue.  He  was 
a  master  of  all  the  learning  and  the  accomplish- 
ments of  the  time.  His  knowledge  of  foreign 
politics  was  at  once  extensive  and  profound.  He 
possessed  rare  gifts  of  eloquence  and  perspicuity 
in  speaking  and  writing.  Having  exquisite 
natural  taste,  carefully  cultivated  by  study  and 
travel ;  being  adorned  in  an  eminent  degree  with 
personal  grace  and  beauty,  and  with  brilliant  and 
agreeable  quahties  of  mind  ;  and  blending  in  his 
manners  the  stately  gravity  due  to  a  Spanish 
education,  with  the  deferential  courtesy  of  his 
Italian  breeding,  he  had  no  rival  in  Europe  as  a 
finished  diplomatist.  As  an  adept  in  deceit,  and 
in  the  whole  dark^science  of  state-craft,  he  perhaps 
has  seldom  been  surpassed.  But  for  a  statesman 
of  the  so-called  Machievellian  school,  he  had  two 
great  defects.  He  wanted  the  ruthless  will  which 
marches  to  its  goal  without  pity  and  without  re- 
morse; and  he  was  deficient  in  the  power  of 
simulating  honesty  or  of  recognising  that  quality 
in  others.  Of  a  disposition  gentle  almost  to 
timidity,  he  was  apt  to  over-reach  himself  by 
finesse ;  and  his  habit  of  calculating  too  exclu- 
sively on  the  baser  motives  of  human  actions  led 


him  sometimes  into  fatal  blunders.  Intercourse 
with  him  sooner  or  later  infallibly  awakened  in 
friend  and  foe  an  uncomfortable  feeling  of  being 
cheated.  Without  possessing  the  lofty  range  or 
the  force  of  genius  that  distinguished  Richelieu, 
his  mind,  though  liable  to  be  clouded  by  self- 
interest  and  by  passing  fears,  was  remarkable  for 
acuteness,  for  the  prescient  sagacity  of  its  views, 
for  marvellous  fertility  of  resource,  and  for  a 
patient  tenacity  of  purpose  irresistible  as  destiny 
itself.  "  Time  and  I  against  any  other  two^^  was 
his  favourite  maxim.  He  seldom,  if  ever  perhaps, 
postponed  his  private  ends  to  the  good  of  the 
State,  but  he  generally  shaped  them  in  harmony 
with  what  he  believed  to  be  the  public  advantage. 
He  belonged  to  the  school  of  statesmen  who  held, 
or  at  least  acted  as  if  they  held,  that  peoples  were 
made  for  Kings ;  and  in  the  main  he  carried  out, 
by  a  feebler  and  more  demoralising  policy,  the 
system  of  Government  which  he  inherited  from 
his  predecessor.  Although  under  the  dominion  of 
avarice,  the  meanest  of  aU  vices,  and  in  a  Minister 
like  Mazarin,  with  despotic  principles,  unbounded 
opportunities,  and  a  low  standard  of  political 
morality,  one  of  the  most  hurtful  to  a  people,  its 
influence  was  somewhat  tempered  by  his  love  of 
magnificence  and  refined  enjoyments,  and  his 
splendid  patronage  of  the  fine  arts.     He  merits 

G  2 


I 
I 


124 


the  high  praise  of  being  the  most  clement  of 
rulers.  There  is  no  other  example  in  history  of  a 
minister  of  such  insatiable  ambition,  guided  by 
such  arbitrary  maxims,  pursued  and  proscribed  for 
so  many  years  with  such  unscrupulous  malignity, 
such  furious  rancour,  and  ultimately  so  triumphant 
over  all  his  enemies,  who  treated  his  adversaries 
with  equal  forbearance,  and  so  consistently  shrank 
from  dipping  his  hands  in  blood. 

The  origin  of  Mazarin  was  obscure  ;  his  father, 
of  Sicihan  extraction,  having  been  steward  in  the 
household  of  the  great  Eoman  family  of  Colonna. 
The  young  Gulio,  bom  in  1602,  was  sent  for  his 
education  to  the  University  of  Alcala,  in  Spain. 
On  his  return  to  Rome,  the  interest  of  his  patrons 
obtained  for  him  a  commission  in  the  Papal  Army. 
But  although  he  never  lost  his  military  tastes,  he 
soon  rehnquished  the  profession  of  arms  for  a 
career  better  suited  to  his  genius.  His  skill  in 
literary  composition  having  attracted  the  notice  of 
the  Cardinals  Barberini,  nephews  of  the  reigning 
Pontiff,  Urban  YIII.,  they  took  him  under  their 
protection ;  and  charmed  by  his  versatile  capacity 
and  his  amiable  disposition,  advanced  him  to  im- 
portant diplomatic  employments  in  Italy  and 
France.  His  new  profession  brought  him,  in 
the  year  1630,  during  the  Mantuan  war,  into 
contact  with  Cardinal  Richelieu,  who  appreciating 


125 


his  great  abiHties  and  his  engaging  qualities, 
loaded  him  with  marks  of  esteem  and  affection. 
Mazarin  happened  to  be  in  Paris  ia  the  year  1639 
on  a  confidential  mission  from  the  Papal  See,  when 
the  sudden  death  of  Father  Joseph  de  Tremblay 
deprived  Richelieu  of  his  most  able  and  trusted 
councillor.  The  powerful  minister  fixed  upon  the 
Papal  Envoy  as  the  person  best  qualified  to  supply 
the  loss,  assigned  him  apartments  in  the  Palais 
Cardinal,  obtained  for  him  the  red  hat  which  had 
been  destined  for  the  famous  Capuchin,  and 
admitted  him  to  his  entire  confidence.  Mazarin 
was  especially  useful  to  his  benefactor  as  a  medium 
of  communication  with  the  King  and  Queen.  His 
gentle  pliancy,  and  deferential  bearing,  soothed 
the  jealous  and  irritable  temper  of  Louis.  His 
insinuating  manners  and  perfect  knowledge  of  the 
Spanish  tongue  won  him  the  regard  of  Anne  of 
Austria,  now  reduced  to  isolation  by  the  death  or 
banishment  of  nearly  all  her  adherents. 

On  the  death  of  RicheUeu  the  position  of  his 
followers  was  eminently  precarious.  The  exist- 
ence of  the  King  had  long  held  by  a  thread.  It 
was  impossible  that  life  could  flicker  much  longer 
in  his  emaciated  frame;  and  his  children  were 
still  infants.  The  statesmen  of  the  school  of  the 
late  minister,  men  of  great  ability  and  eager 
ambition,  who  had  been  absolutely  devoted  to 


126 

their  patron,  not  only  represented  a  policy  odious 
to  the  great  body  of  the  nation,  but  had  in  many 
cases  excited  the  personal  enmity  of  the  Queen, 
and  of  the  great  nobles  of  the  realm.  The  House 
of  Conde,  aggrandized  in  an  extraordinary  degree 
by  its  alliance  with  Cardinal  Eichelieu,  was  their 
chief  support;  but  the  character  of  the  Prince 
was  proverbially  shifty  and  self-seeking.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  poKtical  structure  reared  by  their 
master  with  such  a  bold  and  skilful  hand  would 
topple  down  in  ruin  on  their  heads.  Louis,  even 
while  the  impression  of  the  solemn  death-bed 
interview  which  terminated  the  momentous,  ever 
varying,  but  never-broken  relations  which  had 
bound  him  and  his  great  minister  together  for 
twenty  years,  was  still  fresh  on  his  mind,  had  dis- 
played singular  ingratitude  and  want  of  feeling. 
When  the  CardinaPs  death  was  reported  to  him, 
not  caring  to  dissemble  his  joy  at  being  released 
from  the  servitude  which  he  had  neither  known 
how  to  throw  ofi  nor  to  support  with  dignity,  he 
exclaimed  ^^  I  am  at  length  a  king.^'  For  a  few 
weeks  he  seemed  to  enjoy  his  liberty,  and  the 
appearance  of  directing  in  person  the  government 
of  the  kingdom.  In  order,  apparently,  to  con- 
vince his  subjects  that  the  severity  which  had 
hitherto  distinguished  his  reign  was  solely  due  to 
the  counsels  of  the  deceased  prelate,  he  granted 


127 


an  amnesty  for  political  offences.  Princes  of  the 
Blood  and  great  nobles,  long  entombed  in  dun- 
geons, or  forced  to  eat  the  bitter  bread  of  exile, 
again  thronged  the  Royal  ante-chambers  at  St.  Ger- 
main. Every  day  added  to  the  returned  swarm  of 
illustrious  proscribed,  who,  gathering  in  excited 
groups,  scowled  with  hatred  and  scorn  at  the 
adherents  of  the  late  minister,  decked  out  in  the 
dignities  of  which  they  had  been  despoiled; 
watched  with  ill-dissembled  hope  the  manifest 
tracings  of  death  upon  the  countenance  of  their, 
sovereign ;  and  crowded  in  noisy  homage  around 
Anne  of  Austria,  their  old  accomplice  in  treason, 
and  the  destined  instrument  of  their  triumph  and 
revenge.  The  leading  figure  among  these  haughty 
malcontents  was  the  young  Duke  of  Beaufort, 
second  son  of  the  Duke  of  Vend6me,  and  grand- 
son of  Henry  IV.,  brave,  handsome,  rash,  pre- 
sumptuous, without  capacity  or  conduct,  but 
popular  and  high  in  the  favour  of  the  Queen. 

To  the  dangers  he  shared  in  common  with  his 
colleagues  was  added,  in  the  case  of  Mazarin,  the 
odium  nearly  always  provoked  by  the  rapid  eleva- 
tion of  a  foreign  adventurer  of  obscure  extraction. 
The  difficulties  of  his  situation  could  only  be  sur- 
mounted by  the  exercise  of  all  his  art.  Policy 
and  his  natural  disposition  suggested  the  same 
course  of  action.    He  set  himself  to  attract  friends 


f 


'■■■•■■■■••■lAi^- 


128 


and  disarm  foes,  by  humility  of  deportment,  by 
flattering  caresses,  and  by  constant  offices  of 
kindness.  Naturally  incHned  to  luxury  and  mag- 
nificence, be  adopted  a  style  of  living  plain  even 
to  meanness.  He  took  pains  to  conceal  bis  influ- 
ence in  the  King's  councils,  and  affected  a  wish 
to  be  permitted  to  retire  to  Rome.  He  paid 
obsequious  homage  to  rank  and  power,  and  did 
not  disdain  to  propitiate  the  most  insignificant 
court  official.  His  efforts  to  win  the  favour  of 
the  Queen,  though  secret,  were  unremitting. 
Nor  was  Anne  of  Austria,  now  in  the  ripe  splen- 
dour of  her  voluptuous  beauty,  and  aspiring  to 
be  Regent  with  absolute  power,  insensible  to  the 
charm  which  personal  graces  and  delicate  flattery 
lent  to  the  councils  of  the  astute  politician. 

Within  five  months  Louis  XIII.  followed  Car- 
dinal RicheHeu  to  the  grave.  When  he  felt  his 
end  drawing  near,  he  summoned  Mazarin  and 
Baron  Chavigny,  the  ablest  and  best  beloved  of 
Richelieu's  poHtical  pupils,  to  assist  him  in  pre- 
paring an  Edict  of  Regency  to  regulate  the 
government  of  France  during  the  minority  of 
his  son.  Mazarin  prudently  held  aloof  as  much 
as  possible  from  the  discussions  in  the  Council  of 
State,  resigning  the  lead  to  the  bolder  Chavigny, 
by  whose  advice  a  solemn  Declaration  of  the 
King's  will  was  drawn  up,  and  formally  registered 


129 


by  the  ParHament  of  Paris.  To  this  settlement 
Louis  exacted  public  oaths  of  obedience  from  his 
wife,  from  the  great  judicial  and  administrative 
bodies  of  the  Capital,  and  from  the  principal 
personages  of  the  realm.  Ancient  precedent  and 
the  necessities  of  the  time  compelled  him,  notwith- 
standing the  well-founded  distrust  and  disHke 
with  which  he  regarded  his  wife  and  his  brother, 
to  appoint  the  one  Regent  and  the  other  Lieu- 
tenant-General  of  the  kingdom.  But  he  vested  a 
controlling  power  in  a  Council  of  Regency,  com- 
posed, in  addition  to  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  of  the 
Prince  of  Cond6,  Mazarin,  Chavigny,  and  his 
father  BouthilUer,  and  the  Chancellor  Seguier. 

The  conduct  of  the  Queen  at  this  juncture  was 
marked  by  all  the  perfidy  of  which  her  husband 
so  often  and  so  bitterly  complained,  and  by  a 
degree  of  political  skill  for  which  no  one,  with 
the  exception  perhaps  of  Richelieu,  had  hitherto 
given  her  credit.  Knowing  well  that  her  own 
popularity,  the  passions  of  the  great  nobles,  and 
the  strong  reaction  that  had  already  set  in  agaiust 
the  repressive  system  of  the  late  minister,  would 
sweep  away  the  unusual  restrictions  imposed  upon 
her  by  the  King's  testament,  and,  counselled  by  Ma- 
zarin to  temporise,  she  took  the  required  oath  with 
cheerful  alacrity,  and  with  earnest  protestations 
of  devotion  and  gratitude.     In  order  to  guard 

G  5 


i 


-— ^-■^■^    --.j.^l-;     i 


"■ '""•    ~-^"^-- 


X* 


130 


herself  against  the  cabals  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans, 
who  had  publicly  questioned  the  legitimacy  of  her 
children;  and  to  escape  from  the  position  of  being 
merely  the  head  of  a  turbulent  and  rapacious 
faction,  of  dependence  on  her  old  partizans,  with 
whose  poHtical  views  she  no  longer  sympathised, 
she  formed  a  secret  league  for  mutual  support 
with  the  Prince  of  Cond^,  the  mainstay  of  Eiche- 
Keu^s  friends,  and  the  mortal  enemy  of  the  House 
of  Vend6me.  The  event  fully  justified  her  pru- 
dence and  foresight.  On  the  death  of  Louis 
XIII.,  the  Duke  of  Beaufort  and  his  party,  treat- 
ing the  Edict  of  Regency,  and  the  Council  of 
Regency  with  contempt,  carried  Anne  in  triumph 
to  Paris,  amidst  the  acclamations  of  the  people, 
as  absolute  ruler  of  the  realm.  The  Lieutenant- 
General  and  the  Council,  influenced  by  Conde, 
who  had  been  gained  over,  and  by  Chavigny, 
whose  sagacity  divined  the  necessities  of  the 
situation,  determined  upon  a  voluntary  abdication 
of  their  functions.  In  a  few  days  Louis  XIY., 
then  five  years  old,  held  his  first  Bed  of  Justice. 
Orleans,  with  ill-dissembled  reluctance,  announced 
to  the  High  Court  of  Parliament  the  resignation 
of  himself  and  his  colleagues  in  the  Government, 
and  proposed  to  invest  the  Regent  with  unlimited 
authority.  Conde  signified  his  approval.  A 
decree  was  passed  amidst  the  greatest  enthusiasm 


131 


by  which  the  magistrates  annulled  the  wiU  of 
Louis  XIIL,  which  they  had  so  recently  afl&rmed 
with  equal  unanimity.  Orleans  was  again  created 
Lieutenant- General  of  the  Kingdom  by  the 
Regent;  and  the  members  of  the  Council  of 
Regency,  with  Conde  as  President,  continued  to 
hold  their  posts  at  her  pleasure. 

Anne  of  Austria  had  now  attained  the  fruition 
of  her  hopes.  But  the  exultation  of  success  was 
soon  sobered  by  the  difficulties  of  her  new  posi- 
tion. She  found  herself  between  two  irreconcilably 
hostile  parties,  each  of  which  had  contributed  to 
promote  her  ambition.  The  one  composed  of  the 
House  of  Conde,  the  connexions  of  Richelieu,  the 
experienced  statesmen  and  able  soldiers  he  had 
raised  around  the  throne,  represented  victory  and 
the  humihation  of  the  house  of  Austria  abroad, 
and  the  plenitude  of  the  royal  authority  at  home. 
These  urged  her  to  recollect  only  that  she  was 
mother  of  the  King  of  France,  to  observe  the 
treaty  engagements  of  the  kingdom  sealed  on 
many  a  glorious  field  of  battle,  and  to  preserve  in 
undiminished  splendour  the  inheritance  of  her 
son.  The  other  party,  consisting  of  the  majority 
of  the  great  princes  and  nobles,  her  own  old  con- 
federates, backed  by  the  Church  and  by  popular 
feeling,  peremptorily  demanded  immediate  peace 
without  regard  to  existing  alliances  and  public 


132 

faith,  with  the  other  Catholic  powers;  the  restora- 
tion of  the  forfeited  dominions  and  feudal  powers 
of  the  depressed  nobles;  the  confiscation  of  Eiche- 
lien's  wealth,  the  degradation  of  his  family  and 
adherents,  and  the  reversal  of  his  policy.     The 
very  first  acts  of  her  authority  as  Regent  revealed 
to  her  the  inevitable  dangers  that  beset  her  course. 
On  her  return  to  the  Louvre  from  the  Palace  of 
Justice  she  had  appointed  several  of  her  old  ad- 
herents to  seats  in  the  Council  of  State,  and  made 
one  of  them,  the    Bishop   of    Beauvais,   Prime 
Minister.  But  she  also  commissioned  a  confidential 
agent  to  ofier  Mazarin,  who  since  the  death  of 
the  king  had  secluded  himself  in  his  dingy  lodg- 
ings,  professing  to  his  friends  ignorance  of  the 
intrigues  on  foot,  and  despondency  regarding  hia 
own  prospects,  the  post  of  Vice-President  of  the 
Council.      And  in  observance  of  her  secret  en- 
gagements with  Conde,  an  intimation  was  con- 
veyed to  Chavigny,Boutliillier,  and  the  Chancellor 
Seguier  of  her  desire  that  they  should  retain  their 
offices  in  the  Ministry.     Beaufort  and  his  friends, 
almost  beside    themselves  with  amazement  and 
anger,  immediately    assailed  her  with  clamorous 
remonstrances,  which  she  endeavoured,  with  only 
partial  success,  to  satisfy  by  representing  to  them 
the  necessity  of  temporising  until  she  had  acquired 
some  knowledge  of  public  affairs.     They  only  con- 


1 


133 


sented  to  wait  until  their  mistress  had  the  support 
of  the  presence  and  counsels  of  Madame  de 
Chevreuse,  whose  return  from  her  long  exile  in  the 
Netherlands  was  daily  expected,  before,  as  they 
openly  declared,  transferring  to  themselves  all  the 
offices  and  governments  which  had  been  usurped 
during  the  late  reign  by  the  adherents  of  the  new 
political  system,  and  all  the  vast  possessions  ac- 
quired by  the  family  of  Cardinal  Richelieu.  The 
character  and  career  of  the  extraordinary  woman, 
upon  whose  return  to  Court  such  momentous 
issues  seemed  to  hang,  call  for  something  more 
than  a  mere  passing  notice. 

When    the    Duke  of    Luynes  found  himself 
suddenly  raised  from  obscurity  and  indigence  to 
the  highest  rank,  and  unbounded  wealth,  by  the 
favour  of  Louis  XIII.  and  the  plunder  of  the  un- 
fortunate Concinis,  his  first  care  was  to  add  lustre 
and   strength  to  his  new  position  by  an  alliance 
with  one   of  the  great  families  of  France.     The 
unrivalled  charms,  sparkling  wit,  and  imperious 
spirit  of  Marie  de  Rohan,   only  daughter  of  the 
Duke  of  Montbazon,  had,  just  then,  burst  upon 
the   Court  of    France  in  a  dawn    which  gave 
dazzling  promise  of  the  transcendent  power  which 
afterwards  set  the  world  in  a  flame.     De  Luynes, 
with  the  support  of  the  King,   sought  Marie^a 
hand  in  marriage.     In  order  to  promote  his  suit. 


i 


I 


134 

he  laid  at  the  feet  of  the  proud  young  beauty  the 
magnificent  diamonds  of  the  Marchioness  d'Ancre, 
said  to  exceed  in  value  those  in  the  possession  of 
any  other  European   subject,   and  the   office  of 
Superintendent   of  the  Queen^s  Household,  the 
greatest  which  a  woman   could  hold  under  the 
French  Crown.     The  handsome  person  and  win- 
ning manners  of  the  favourite  made  an  impression 
on  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan's  heart ;  his  splendid 
offers  dazzled  her  ambition,  and  she  accepted  hia 
hand  without  reluctance.     But  her  elevation  at 
Court  was  opposed  by  an   angry   cabal.      The 
young   Queen    resisted  an    appointment  which 
placed  at  the  head  of  her  household  a  self-willed 
beauty  but   a  year  older,  and  of  more  brilliant 
attractions  than  herself.     The  Duchess  of  Mont- 
morenci  and   the    haughty  Spanish  dames  who 
had  hitherto  formed  Anne's   estabUshment,  re- 
fused to  acknowledge  the  new  Superintendent,  and 
Louis  had  to  exert  the  royal  authority  with  some 
harshness,  to  make  his  will  obeyed.     Marie  lived 
happily  with  her  husband,  and  up  to  the  time  of 
his    death,    supported    his    interests    with  the 
courageous  fidelity  which  was  the  finest  feature  of 
her  character.      During    the  first  year  of  her 
widowhood,  the   miscarriage  of  Anne  of  Austria, 
caused  by  a  fall  while  romping  with  Madame  de 
Luynes  in  the  long  gallery  of  the  Louvre,  led  to 


135 


the  dismissal  of  the  Duchess  and  her  banishment 
from  Court.  A  few  months  after  her  disgrace  she 
married  the  Duke  of  Chevreuse,  youngest  son  of 
Henry  Duke  of  Guise,  who  had  been  murdered  at 
Blois.  This  great  alliance  procured  her  recal  to 
Court  and  her  re-appointment  to  high  office  about 
the  person  of  the  Queen.  In  other  respects  her 
second  marriage  was  unfortunate.  Chevreuse, 
who  had  degenerated  from  his  illustrious  race  in 
everything  except  personal  beauty,  was  sunk  in 
sloth  and  pleasure.  The  Duchess,  neglected  by 
her  husband,  threw  off  all  moral  restraint,  gave 
free  rein  to  her  bold  and  wayward  spirit,  and  with 
qualifications  for  success  which  have  seldom  been 
equalled,  launched  out  upon  that  stormy  career  of 
intrigue  in  love  and  politics,  which  soon  made 
her  the  most  famous  woman  in  Europe. 

The  coldness  which  had  at  first  existed  between 
Anne  of  Austria  and  the  young  Superintendent 
of  her  household  gradually  gave  place  to  feelings 
of  confidence  and  affection.  Madame  de  Chevreuse 
espoused  the  quarrels  of  her  mistress,  who  keenly 
relented  the  precedence  allowed  to  the  Queen- 
mother  by  the  jealous  distrust  of  the  King,  with 
the  passionate  ardour  of  her  nature.  Richelieu, 
then  rising  rapidly  in  power,  conceived  for  her  a 
profound  admiration  which  nothing  was  ever  able 
to  extinguish.     He  spared  no  effort  to  win  her 


( 


f 
I 


136 


over  to  his  interests.  But  she  treated  his  ad- 
vances with  galling  mockery^  turned  him  into 
ridicule  with  the  Queen^  and  was  the  soul  of  every 
conspiracy  that  troubled  his  administration.  A 
large  share  of  the  faults  and  the  unhappiness  of 
Anne  of  Austria^s  married  life  must  be  attributed 
to  the  evil  influence  of  Madame  de  Chevreuse. 
She  encouraged  the  Queen  in  her  ill-judged  course 
of  political  cabal,  and  domestic  contumacy.  In 
concert  with  her  lover.  Lord  Holland,  she  was  the 
promoter  and  confidante  of  the  Queen's  liason 
with  the  Duke  of  Buckingham;  and  bore  a  prin- 
cipal part  in  the  celebrated  midnight  revels  in  the 
gardens  of  the  Louvre  and  at  Amiens  which  cast 
dishonour  on  the  throne  of  France.  She  was  the 
most  active  member  of  the  conspiracy  of  the 
Prince  of  Chalaisforthe  assassination  of  Richelieu 
and  perhaps  of  the  King,  and  the  marriage  of 
Anne  of  Austria  with  the  Duke  of  Orleans. 
Chalais,  betrayed  and  deserted  by  Orleans  and 
his  other  associates,  was  sustained  in  prison,  and 
even  to  the  foot  of  the  scaffold,  by  her  fearless 
devotion.  Her  multiplied  offences  naturally  pro- 
voked the  indignation  of  Louis  XIII.  He  would 
have  shut  her  up  in  the  Bastille,  but  at  the  Car- 
dinal's intercession,  she  was  exiled  for  a  few 
months  to  her  chateau  at  Dampierre,  and  then 
permitted  to  retire  to  the  Court  of  the  Duke  of 
Lorraine. 


f    < 


137 

The  Minister,  however,  soon  found  that  the  im- 
placable Duchess  was  a  more  formidable  foe  in 
exile  than  at  the  Court  of  France.     Wandering 
restlessly  from  one  country  to  another,  impelled 
by  vanity,  ambition  and  hatred,  she  compelled 
sovereigns  and  statesmen  of  the  most  opposite 
views  and  character  to  confess  the  power  of  her 
fascinations  andbecome  accomplicesin  her  schemes. 
Men  and  women,  the  most  virtuous  and  the  most 
abandoned,   alike    found    points    of   irresistible 
attraction  in  the  curiously  chequered  nature  of  the 
brilliant  Frenchwoman.     Admired  and  feted  at  the 
Courts  of  Madrid,  London,  Brussels,  and  Nancy, 
she  raised   up  enemies  everywhere   against  the 
French  Government,  and  knit  together  powerful 
foreign  confederacies  to  aid  the  efforts  of  domestic 
insurrection.     She  and  her  party  would  have  seen 
with  joy  the  troops  of  Spain  and  Lorraine  pene- 
trate into  the  heart   of  France  from  the  East, 
while  the  English  advanced  victoriously  from  the 
Huguenot  fortresses  in  the  West,  so  that  the  suc- 
cessful invasion  should  hurl  the  detested  Cardinal 
from  power. 

Yet  in  the  very  midst  of  their  mortal  duel  it 
seemed  as  if  Richelieu  and  Madame  de  Chevreuse 
suddenly  agreed  to  bury  their  animosities  and 
unite  their  interests.  After  the  final  discomfiture 
of  the  caballings  of  Mary  of  Medicis,  at  the  very 
moment  when  she  was  exulting  in  assured  success. 


1 


138 

on  the  memorable  "  Day  of  Dupes/'  the  Cardinal 
made  the  Marquis  of  Chateauneuf  Keeper  of  the 
Seals.     Chateauneuf  was  a  favoured  lover  of  the 
Duchess.     Delighted  at   his  advancement,  and 
anxious  to  witness  his  good-fortune,  she  offered 
her  friendship  to  Eichelieu.     The  Minister,  ever 
willing  to  convert  her  into  a  friend,  induced  the 
King   to    permit   her  to  return   to    the  French 
Court,  and  to  have  unrestricted  access  to  Anne  of 
Austria.     But  the  plots  against  his  administration 
were  continued  without  interruption ;  and  after  a 
time  he  discovered  that  Chateauneuf,  who  had  given 
a  strong  proof  of  devotion  by  presiding  at  the  trial 
of  his  early  benefactor  the  Duke  of  Montmorenci, 
debauched    by   his  mistress,  was   betraying  the 
secrets  of  State  to  Anne  of  Austria,  and  habitually 
reviling  himself  with  the  grossest  license  of  accu- 
sation and  invective.     The  treacherous  Keeper  of 
the  Seals  was  condemned  to  perpetual  imprison- 
ment, under  harsh  restrictions,   in  the  citadel  of 
Angouleme.     Madame  de  Chevreuse  was  ordered 
to  retire  again  to  Dampierre,  and  strictly  forbidden 
to  hold  communication  with  the  Queen. 

Nothing  daunted  by  ill-success,  she  continued 
her  intrigues  with  foreign  powers;  and  journeying 
up  to  Paris  disguised  as  a  peasant-woman,  held 
secret  interviews  with  Anne  of  Austria  in  the 
Convent  of  Val  de  Grace.   The  spies  of  the  Cardinal 


139 


detected  these  stolen  visits  of  his  fair  enemy.  The 
Duchess  was  hurried  away  from  Dampierre  to  a 
melancholy  chateau  in  the  gloomy  depths  of  a 
vast  forest  near  Tours ;  and,  what  she  resented  as 
unpardonable  malice  on  the  part  of  the  Minister, 
was  committed  to  the  rigorous  control  of  her 
husband.  Eichelieu,  however,  soon  relented  to 
her  expostulations,  permitted  her  to  live  at  Tours, 
where  she  completely  captivated  the  simple  old 
Archbishop,  and  supplied  her  liberally  with 
money.  She  remained  at  Tours  carrying  on  secret 
correspondence  with  the  Queen,  and  with  Spain, 
Lorraine,  and  the  banished  nobles,  until  the 
detection  of  her  treasonable  intrigues  by  Richelieu 
placed  the  life  of  Anne  of  Austria  herself  at  hia 
mercy.  Then  the  Duchess,  justly  fearing  that  she 
had  exceeded  the  utmost  limits  of  forbearance, 
resolved  to  fly  the  country.  Leaving  Tours  in  her 
coach,  as  if  for  an  afternoon  drive,  she  attired  her- 
self in  the  dress  of  a  cavalier,  sent  back  the  equipage, 
with  the  blinds  drawn  down,  by  a  circuitous  route, 
and  mounted  a  horse  which  had  been  stationed  at 
a  convenient  point  caparisoned  for  a  journey.  Her 
splendid  jewels,  the  bequest  of  her  first  husband, 
were  committed,  on  the  road,  to  the  charge  of  the 
young  Prince  of  Marsillac.  Riding  post,  without 
attendants,  she  traversed  the  southern  provinces 
of    France,  meeting  with  ludicrous  adventures. 


i 


140 


from  which  she  extricated  herself  with  peculiar 
gaiety  and  sang-froid,  and  finally  crossed  the 
Pyrennees  in  safety.  But  although  received  at 
the  Courts  of  the  powers  hostile  to  France  with 
almost  regal  honours,  Madame  Chevreuse,  a  true 
Frenchwoman,  pined  amidst  the  most  splendid 
scenes  of  foreign  capitals  for  the  delights  of 
Parisian  society.  After  a  short  time,  she  made 
fresh  overtures  with  the  view  of  obtaining  per- 
mission to  return  to  France.  The  Cardinal,  always 
indulgent  to  his  beautiful  enemy,  and  no  longer 
fearing  her  influence  over  the  Queen,  required 
from  her  only  submission,  and  a  promise  of  amend- 
ment. But  Anne  of  Austria,  who  now  had  her 
own  reasons  for  dreading  the  presence  of  her  rest- 
less friend,  secretly  contrived  the  means  of  putting 
a  stop  to  the  negociations. 

At  the  time  of  Richelieu^s  death,  the  Duchess 
'had  been  six  years  in  exile ;  years  of  disappoint- 
ment and  chagrin,  which  made  sad  havoc  in  the 
peerless  charms,  which  thrice  that  period  of  active 
intrigue  had  touched  only  to  improve.  And  the 
event  which  might  have  been  counted  on  as  the 
termination  of  her  wanderings,  seemed  likely  to 
render  them  eternal.  Louis  XIII.  specially  ex- 
cepted her  from  the  amnesty  he  granted  for 
political  offences,  and  by  his  last  testament  con- 
demned her  to   perpetual  banishment  from  the 


141 


French  Court.  When  the  Parliament  of  Paris 
had  annulled  this  will,  the  Eegent,  with  apparent 
cordiality,  but  real  reluctance,  despatched  missives 
of  recal  to  her  old  ally,  then  the  guest  of  the 
Archduke  Ferdinand,  at  Brussels.  The  Duchess 
and  the  Flemish  Court,  confident  of  her  un- 
bounded empire  over  the  mind  of  Anne  of  Austria, 
and  believing  that  her  return  to  France  would  be 
immediately  followed,  notwithstanding  the  recent 
victory  of  Eocroi,  by  the  entire  reversal  of 
Eichelieu^s  political  measures,  publicly  manifested 
undignified  exultation.  In  council  with  her 
Spanish  friends  she  mapped  out  the  future  policy 
of  France,  and  accepted  their  premature  gratitude 
for  an  advantageous  peace  with  a  gracious  con- 
descension which  was  untroubled  by  a  single 
doubt.  Departing  from  Brussels  attended  by  the 
whole  Court,  welcomed  along  her  route  by  the 
Flemish  and  French  authorities  with  extraordi- 
nary public  honours,  she  slowly  pursued  her 
triumphal  progress  towards  Paris,  disdainful  of 
the  ominous  warnings  transmitted  to  her  through 
common  friends  by  her  irritated  mistress,  of  the 
revolution  which  circumstances  had  wrought  in 
the  Regent's  feelings  and  opinions. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  party  of  great 
nobihty  and  their  foreign  allies  had  apparently 
strong  grounds  for  satisfaction  at  the  change  of 


142 


government  in  France.     Few  even  amongst  those 
most  experienced  in  tlie  crooked  ways  of  political 
life  entertained  a  doubt  as  to  the  side  to  which  the 
Regent  would  incline.     She  was  known  to  have 
lent  her  sanction  to  most  of  the  plots  formed  in 
the  late  reign  by  the  feudal  party,  in  concert  with 
her  brother  the  King  of  Spain ;  plots  which  did 
not  always  respect  the  crown,  perhaps  the  life,  of 
her  husband.     She  was,  notoriously,  the  bosom 
friend  of  the  most  active  spirit  of  that  party;  and 
even  in  exile  Madame   Chevreuse  had  continued, 
seemingly  to  the  very  last,  not  only  to  inspire  the 
councils  of  her  friends,  but  to  rule  the  heart  of  her 
mistress.     In  the  long  struggle  for  power,  Anne, 
as  she  and  her  partizans  loudly  proclaimed,  had 
received  at  the  hands  of  RicheHeu  and  his  creatures 
not  only  great  injuries,  but  insults  devised  with 
ingenious  malice  to  outrage  her  feelings  as  a  queen 
and  a  woman.     She  had  been  more  than  once 
rescued  from  terrible  perils,  provoked  by  her  im- 
prudence,  by  the  self-immolating  fidelity  of  de- 
voted adherents.     Proud  of  her  lineage  and  of  her 
beauty,  imperious  and  self-willed,  courageous  even 
to  temerity,  quick  and  apparently  tenacious  in  her 
feelings,  Anne  did  not  seem  one  who  could  find  it 
easy  to  forget  an  obhgation  or  an  injury.     It  was 
natural  that  her  accession  to  sovereign  rule  should 
make  the  followers  of  the  late  Minister  tremble 


143 


for  their  safety ;  that  her  tried  partizans  whom 
the  prisons  had  disgorged,  or  who  had  flocked 
around  her  from  banishment,  should  exult  in  anti- 
cipation of  the  signal  vengeance  and  the  splendid 
rewards  with  which  the  haughty  daughter  of  the 
Caesars  would  requite  so  much  devotion  and  so 
many  wrongs.  Moreover,  Anne  was  a  Spanish 
Infanta,  warmly  attached  to  her  brother,  the 
Cathohc  King,  in  whose  interests  she  had 
more  than  once  betrayed  her  adopted  country; 
warmly  attached  to  the  Catholic  faith,  although 
she  might  occasionally  temper  the  severity  of  her 
religious  principles  by  laxity  of  practice.  The 
ties  of  family  and  religion  bound  her  to  dissolve 
the  unholy  league,  which  to  the  scandal  of 
Christendom,  a  Prince  of  the  Church  had 
formed  with  heretical  powers,  in  order  to  check 
the  triumphant  march  of  CathoHcity  in  Germany. 
But  there  were  causes,  some  unsuspected  at 
that  time,  some  not  suJSiciently  taken  into  account, 
which  operated  so  as,  in  a  great  measure,  to  falsify 
the  hopes  and  fears  to  which  her  assumption  of 
the  Regency  had  given  birth.  Her  real  nature 
was  a  sealed  volume  even  to  her  most  intimate 
friends.  Not  even  the  sharp-witted  Duchess  of 
Chevreuse  seems  to  have  harboured  a  suspicion 
of  the  strong-willed  ambition  and  the  deep 
duplicity  which  lay  at  the  foundation    of    the 


144 


character  of  tlie  seemingly  pliant  beauty,  so 
greedy  of  admiration,  and  so  prone  to  levity,  of 
all  whose  rash  escapades  in  love  and  politics,  of 
whose  most  secret  moments  she  had  been  long  the 
confidante.  And,  during  the  last  five  years  of  his 
rule,  Anne,  unknown  to  all  her  friends,  appears 
to  have  been  in  intimate,  though  carefully  con- 
cealed, alliance  with  Cardinal  Eichelieu.  At  that 
terrible  juncture  of  her  life,  when  the  Cardinal,  hav- 
ing discovered  that  his  military  plans  were  betrayed 
and  his  secret  negociations  foiled  by  her  treachery, 
charged  her  with  high  treason  in  the  Council  of 
States;  when  the  faithful  agent  of  her  poHtical 
crimes.  La  Porte,  was  seized  and  flung  into  a 
dungeon  of  the  Bastile,  where  his  constancy  would 
probably  be  tested  by  the  rack;  when,  in  an 
agony  of  despairing  terror,  she  besought  the 
Prince  of  Marsillac  to  carry  her  out  of  France ; 
when  the  beautiful  and  virtuous  Mademoiselle 
de  Hautefort,  throwing  to  the  winds,  with  the 
noblest  self-devotion,  the  love  of  the  King,  her 
own  safety,  and,  what  she  valued  far  more, 
her  reputation,  in  order  to  rescue  her  mistress 
from  destruction,  penetrated  into  the  Bastile,  dis- 
guised as  a  soubrette,  to  communicate  with  La 
Porte,  whose  heroic  fidelity  extorted  a  warm  tribute 
of  admiration  from  the  baffled  minister ;  and 
when  all  these  efforts,  and  even  her  own  wanton 


145 


perjury  in  the  Holy  Eucharist  were  of  no  avail 
against  the  clear  proofs  in  the  Cardinal's 
possession,  Anne  threw  herself  on  Richelieu's 
mercy,  and  purchased  safety  by  unconditional 
submission.  She  continued  to  be  the  object  of 
the  ardent  loyalty  of  her  old  friends,  who  con- 
fided to  her  all  their  plots.  There  is  a  good 
reason  to  believe  it  was  from  her  the  Cardinal, 
oppressed  by  the  gloom  of  mortal  illness  and 
approaching  disgrace  at  Tarascon,  received  the 
mysterious  packet  which  enabled  him  to  crush  the 
conspiracy  of  Cinq  Mars,  and  finally  estabhsh  his 
power. 

Richelieu,  on  his  pg-rt,  rendered  the  humiliating 
restrictions  which  Louis  XIII.  imposed  on  his 
wife  less  intolerable,  and  promoted  her  inte- 
rests. Aided  by  a  seasonable  storm,  which 
drove  the  King  for  a  night's  shelter  to 
his  wife's  apartments  in  the  Louvre,  the  only 
habitable  portion  of  the  Palace,  he  brought  about 
a  renewal  of  conjugal  relations,  which  had  been 
interrupted  since  the  conspiracy  of  the  Prince  of 
Chalais.  This  reconciHation  resulted  in  the  birth 
of  a  Dauphin  after  a  barren  nuptial  of  twenty 
years.  We  have  the  Queen's  own  public  testimony 
to  the  effect  that  had  the  great  minister  survived 
Louis  XIII.  she  would,  if  possible,  have  added  to 
his  power.     Mother  of  a  king   and  ruler  of  a 

VOL.  I,  H 


146 


miglity  kingdom  she  had  no  longer  the  views  and 
interests  of  the  neglected  childless  wife^  encom- 
passed by  the  creatures  and  oppressed  by  the 
domination  of  a  triumphant  enemy.  The  point  of 
most  moment  to  her  was  no  longer  a  question  of 
persons^  but  a  question  of  State  policy ;  not  so 
much  whether  one  of  two  rival  factions  should 
prevail,  as  whether  the  absolute  authority  of  the 
King  should  be  estabhshed  on  the  wrecks  of  the 
feudal  system,  or  the  over-grown  power  of  the 
nobles  should  again  overshadow  the  throne.  And 
it  required  a  very  short  experience  of  governing 
to  teach  her  that  to  break  with  the  experienced 
pohticians  of  Kichelieu^s  party  would  be  to  throw 
the  kingdom,  at  a  perilous  crisis,  into  inex- 
tricable confusion.  Mazarin  and  Chavigny  held 
in  their  hands  the  threads  of  a  net -work 
of  political  schemes  which  embraced  half  of 
Europe.  They  alone  possessed  the  ability  and 
knowledge  of  affairs  required  to  steer  the  vessel 
of  the  State  through  the  perils  of  a  period  of 
foreign  war  and  internal  transition.  The  feudal 
party,  long  ostracised,  and  for  the  greater  part 
incapable,  lost  no  opportunity  of  displaying 
equal  ignorance  and  presumption.  Their  swelling 
self-conceit  and  fussy  incompetency  soon  won  for 
them  the  nickname  of  "  The  Importants.^'  The 
Marquis  of  Chateauneuf,  the  only  able  and  ex- 


147 


perienced  statesman  they  could  boast,  broken  by 
twelve  years  of  solitary  imprisonment,  and  pro- 
scribed by  the  fierce  enmity  of  the  House  of 
Conde  for  the  part  he  had  played  in  the  tragic 
downfall  of  the  last  Duke  of  Montmorenci,  sought 
only  a  tranquil  retreat  at  his  country  house  of 
Montrouge.  Their  ostensible  leader,  the  Bishop 
of  Beauvais,  was,  in  the  words  of  Cardinal  de 
Betz,  ^^a  mitred  fool ;"  ^^an  idiot  of  idiots.''  And, 
in  addition  to  the  disadvantages  suggested  by  a 
comparison  of  persons,  to  hand  over  to  the 
Importants  the  reins  of  Government  would  be 
to  goad  into  revolt  an  able  and  powerful  party, 
headed  by  the  wily  Conde  and  his  heroic  son,  and 
to  undo  the  labours  of  Cardinal  Richelieu.  Thus 
new  motives,  born  of  new  political  circumstances, 
had  gradually  estranged  Anne  of  Austria  from 
her  old  friends.  Another  consideration,  springing 
from  softer  emotions,  and  perhaps  equally  potent, 
had  also  begun  to  influence  her  conduct.  The 
various  ability  and  political  knowledge  of 
Mazarin,  his  handsome  person,  graceful  man- 
ners, and  absolute  devotion  to  'her  personal 
interests,  untrammelled  by  French  associations 
or  sympathies,  enchained  her  understanding  and 
her  heart. 

Still  the  event  of  the  struggle  was  long  doubtful. 
It  is  evident  from  Mazarin's  secret  memoranda 

H  2 


148 


how  great  and  how  protracted  were  his  fears  and 
his  uncertainty.  When  Madame  de  Chevreuse 
arrived  m  Paris  she  was  received  kindly,  though 
somewhat  coldly,  by  the  Regent;  the  feudal 
party,  still  supported  by  the  popular  re-action, 
and  numbering  in  its  ranks  the  great  majority  of 
the  clergy,  nobility,  and  magistrates,  and  all 
Anne's  favourite  ladies,  ranged  itself  under  her 
banner.  Had  she  played  her  cards  with  judgment, 
and  consented  to  temporise  in  consideration  of  the 
difficulties  of  her  mistress's  position,  she  might, 
perhaps,  have  ultimately  won  the  game.  Old 
associations  of  friendship  and  service,  the  in- 
fluence of  reHgion,  and  the  ties  of  family,  the 
claims  of  gratitude  and  the  dread  of  dishonour, 
were  brought  to  bear,  in  all  their  force,  on  the 
Queen's  mind  by  advocates  to  whose  remon- 
strances, venerable  character,  or  proved  devotion 
gave  almost  irresistible  weight.  Anne  would 
gladly  have  made  considerable  sacrifices  in  order 
to  reconcile  the  rival  factions  and  propitiate  her 
old  friends.  She  cheerfully  abandoned  to  their 
hatred  Chavigny,  to  whose  counsels  she  attributed 
the  last  testament  of  her  husband.  Chavigny  had 
beenMazarin's  earliest  friend  and  patron  in  France, 
and  the  two  statesmen  had  continued  up  to  this 
time  bound  to  each  other  in  close  friendship ;  but 
the    Cardinal  connived   without  compunction  at 


149 


the  disgrace  of  such  a  formidable  competitor. 
He  also,  by  the  Queen's  desire,  made  repeated 
overtures  to  Madame  de  Chevreuse  for  a  union  of 
interests,  offering  in  return  splendid  advantages 
for  herself  and  her  friends.  But  the  imperious 
Duchess,  not  deigning  to  inform  herself  of  the 
real  character  of  the  Regent,  or  of  the  changes 
which  time  and  circumstances  had  wrought  during 
her  six  years  of  exile,  spurned  his  advances,  and 
insisted,  as  a  preliminary  act  of  justice,  on  the 
immediate  restoration  of  Chateauneuf  to  the  high 
office  he  had  forfeited.  Mazarin,  however,  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  retire  from  France  rather 
than  accept  such  an  able  and  unscrupulous 
colleague.  And  the  Princess  of  Conde,  whose 
wise  counsels  and  tried  friendship  had  just  weight 
with  the  Regent,  declared  that  the  restoration  of 
the  late  Keeper  of  the  Seals  to  a  leading  post  in 
the  Government  would  alienate  from  it  the 
support  of  her  husband  and  son. 

When  Anne  of  Austria's  positive  refusal  to  recall 
Chateauneuf  opened  the  eyes  of  the  Importants  to 
the  altered  state  of  her  relations  with  them,  their 
astonishment  and  fury  knew  no  bounds.  They 
overwhelmed  her  with  the  most  bitter  reproaches, 
with  threats  and  insults.  The  Court  rang  with 
their  angry  complaints,  not  less  distasteful  to  the 
Queen  because  in  a  measure  well-founded,  and 


150 


with  obscene  jests  which  made  her  blood  boil. 
She  had  become  the  poHtical  pupil  of  Mazarin, 
and  the  private  conferences  which  she  held  late 
into  every  night  with  her  handsome  mentor,  scan- 
dalised her  friends,  and  furnished  his  opponents 
with  a  fertile  theme  for  scurrilous  lampoons.  The 
insolent  freedom  and  even  rudeness  of  the  Duke  of 
Beaufort,  who  on  one  occasion  went  so  far  as  to 
turn  his  back  on  her  with  a  contemptuous  gesture, 
before  the  whole  Court ;  the  arrogant  lectures  of 
the  Duchess  of  Chevreuse ;  and  the  hostile  atti- 
tude of  the  rest  of  the  party  gradually  stifled  her 
natural  feelings  of  compunction  for  the  line  of 
policy  she  found  it  her  interest  to  pursue. 

Mazarin  shaped  his  conduct  with  incomparable 
art,  and  turned  every  circumstance  to  the  best  ac- 
count.    The  quarrel  between  the  Duchesses  of 
Longueville   and  Montbazon,  breaking  out  at  a 
seasonable  moment,  linked  the  House  of  Cond6 
more  firmly  to  his  cause,  and  enabled  him  with 
Becurity  to  deal    his  adversaries  a    blow  from 
which  they  never  recovered.     Madame  de  Chev- 
reuse and  Beaufort,  rendered  desperate  by  defeat 
and  the  exile  of  Madame  de  Montbazon,  and  un- 
able to  dislodge  their  wily  antagonist  by  less 
criminal  means,  contrived  a  plot  for  his  assassi- 
nation.     The  Cardinal,  well  served  by  his  spies, 
narrowly  escaped  with  his  life,  and  used  the  oppor- 


151 


tunity  to  bring  matters  to  a  crisis.  Kepairing  to 
the  Council  of  State,  he  demanded  permission 
from  the  Regent  to  retire  to  Eome,  unless  she 
valued  his  services  sufficiently  to  protect  him  from 
the  malice  of  his  enemies.  He  was  warmly  sup- 
ported by  the  Prince  of  Conde,  who  detested  the 
House  of  Yend6me.  The  Regent,  now  com- 
pletely devoted  to  him,  and  weary  of  the  insolence 
of  the  *'  Importants,^^  agreed  to  sustain  him  by 
decisive  measures.  By  her  command,  Beaufort 
was  arrested  at  the  Louvre,  and  shut  up  in  the 
fortress  of  Yincennes.  The  Duke  of  Vendome, 
Madame  de  Chevreuse,  and,  later  on,  even  Madame 
de  Hautefort,  whose  romantic  loyalty  and  noble 
character  adorn  the  pages  of  history  and  fiction, 
were  banished  from  Court.  The  simple  Bishop  of 
Beauvais  being  no  longer  required  to  act  as  a 
screen  to  the  favourite,  was  sent  to  his  diocese. 
The  most  perilous  services  in  the  late  reign,  and 
the  most  humble  submission  to  the  new  Govern- 
ment were  not  sufficient  to  atone  for  honest  con- 
sistency and  want  of  political  foresight.  The 
ingratitude  of  Anne  of  Austria  was  complete  ;  the 
policy  of  RicheHeu  triumphed,  and  Cardinal 
Mazarin  took  the  helm  as  acknowledged  Prime 
Minister. 


152 


CHAPTER  lY. 


The  first  few  years  of  Cardinal  Mazarines  ad- 
ministration, if  not  unruffled  by  occasional  storms, 
were  on  the  whole  sunny  and  tranquil.  The  im- 
pulse which  the  mighty  genius  of  EicheHeu  had 
given  to  the  State  machine,carried  it  along  smoothly 
for  a  long  period  after  his  death ;  and  the  milder 
policy  of  his  successor  rendered  its  pressure  less 
galling.  The  nation,  reUeved  from  the  iron  grasp 
in  which  it  had  writhed  for  twenty  years,  breathed 
again  with  something  of  the  rapture  of  recovered 
freedom.  There  was  little  open  opposition.  The 
Regent  was  gracious,  profuse  in  her  bounties,  and 
popular.  A  witty  courtier,  commenting  on  the 
general  satisfaction,  declared  that  the  French 
language  was  reduced  to  the  five  words,  ^^  The 
Queen  is  so  good."  The  Minister  was  prudent 
and  concihating.  The  Court  was  splendid,  and 
the  arms  of  France  were  crowned  with  unprece- 
dented glory.  The  vigour  and  decision  with 
which  the  Importants  had  been  quelled,   caused 


153 


the  temporising  state-craft  of  Mazarin  to  be  as- 
cribed to  magnanimity  and  not  to  weakness. 

Madame  de  Chevreuse  alone  of  the  Minister's 
foes  stood  forth  in  active  opposition,  undaunted 
and  implacable.  Banished  to  her  country-house 
in  Touraine,  she  resumed  her  treasonable  corres- 
pondence with  Spain,  which  in  less  fortunate  days 
had  been  so  zealously  promoted  by  the  Regent. 
But  she  soon  found  that  she  could  not  hope  from 
the  vigilant  rancour  of  an  ungrateful  mistress,  or 
the  insensible  heart  of  the  Italian  Cardinal,  the 
partial  indulgence  she  had  so  often  experienced 
from  Richelieu.  A  secret  agent  of  the  Govern- 
ment arrived  at  Tours  to  conduct  her,  as  a  state 
prisoner,  to  the  Castle  of  Angouleme.  The  daring 
spirit  which  years  before  had  borne  her  from 
the  same  spot,  in  the  guise  of  a  handsome  young 
cavalier,  in  adventurous  flight  across  the  Pyrennees, 
animated  her  still ;  but  the  generous  enemy  who 
had  supplied  the  funds  for  her  romantic  enter- 
prise no  longer  existed.  Penniless,  but  carrying 
concealed  in  her  girdle  the  famous  Cincini 
diamonds,  she  escaped  from  her  house  at  night  in 
disguise.  Her  daughter,  a  young  girl  of  singular 
courage  and  beauty,  was  her  only  companion. 
The  fugitives  set  out  on  foot  for  the  coast  of 
Brittany,  braved  extraordinary  hardships,  perils, 
and  fatigues,  and  succeeded  in  reachiag  St.  Malo. 

H  5 


154 


The  kindness  of  a  Breton  nobleman   provided 
them   with  passages  on  board  a  ship  bound  for 
England;    but  the   vessel   was   captured  by  an 
English  man-of-war  in  the  service  of  the  ParHa- 
ment^  and  the   Duchess  being  recognised  as  a 
friend  of  Queen   Henrietta  Maria,   was  carried  a 
prisoner  to  the  Isle  of  Wight.     It  was  proposed 
to  deliver  her  up  to  the  Regent.     Fortunately  for 
her,  one  of  her  old  admirers.   Lord  Pembroke, 
was   Governor  of  the  Island,  and  he  allowed  her 
to  depart  for  the  Low  Countries.     The  ill-starred 
wanderers    reached    Dunkirk   in    a    lamentable 
plight,  destitute  of   the  commonest  necessaries. 
The  Duchess  had  only  left  her   the  mortifying 
resource  of  imploring  the  compassion  of  her  old 
friend,  the  Archduke,  from  whom  she  had  parted 
amidst  such  triumphal  pomp,  and  with  such  mag- 
nificent promises,  little  more  than  a  year  before. 
Fallen  and  cheerless  in  themselves,  and  still  sadder 
by  contrast,  were  the  fortunes  of  Madame  de 
Chevreuse  in  her  third  exile  from  France.     The 
political  influence  which  formerly  had  made  her 
an  honoured  guest  at   the  greatest   Courts  of 
Europe,   had  in  a  large  measure  gone  from  her ; 
and  time  and  disappointment   had   dimmed  the 
joyous   sparkle  of  her  wit,  and  the  lustre  of  her 
radiant  beauty.      She  took  up  her  residence  at 
Liege,  pouring  forth  furious,  but  unheeded  de- 


( 


155 

nunciations  against  Mazarin,  or  eating  away  her 
heart  in  sullen  anger,  until  the  return  of  troubled 
times  restored  her  to  her  beloved  Paris  ;  to  that 
life  of  reckless  gaiety  and  restless  intrigue  which 
she  loved  so  well. 

Isolated  cases  of  caballing  like  this  of  Madame 
de  Chevreuse  had,  however,  Httle  effect  on  the 
general  tranquillity  of  the  kingdom.  These  were 
afterwards  known  as  '^  the  fair  days  of  the 
Regency.^^ 

But  the  golden  calm  that  glittered  on  the  sur- 
face of  events  was  delusive  and  transitory.     Be- 
neath it  were  at  work   all  the  elements  of  confu- 
sion ;    ill-defined,   uncertain   and   oppressive  au- 
thority; co-ordinate  and   conflicting  claims   and 
jurisdictions;  the  just   resentments   that  spring 
from  the  constant  violation  of  the  rights  of  indi- 
vidual liberty  and   of  property ;  the  less  just  but 
more  fierce  resentments  of  depressed  privilege, 
balked    ambition,  and  exasperated   pride;  poli- 
tical and  social  corruption ;  and,  underlying  all,  a 
vast  writhing  mass    of    helpless    and    hopeless 
misery.     It  was  an  age  of  transition.     The  whole 
mechanism  of  society  was  deranged.     There  was 
a  want  of  harmony  among  the   orders,  a  want  of 
stabihty  in  the  institutions   of  the  State.     The 
feudal  system  had  been  overthrown,  but  its  ruins 
heaped  everywhere  in  massive  obstruction  cum- 


<( 


156 

bered  the  land.  The  strong  monarchical  constitu- 
tion which  Richelieu  had  built  up,  he  wanted 
leisure  in  his  gigantic  struggle  with  the  House  of 
Austria  to  consolidate  and  complete.  The  interests 
and  pretensions  he  had  crushed  down  began,  as 
the  memory  of  his  rule  grew  fainter,  to  assert 
themselves  again.  Nor  were  these  all  of  a  cha- 
racter prejudicial  to  the  State.  Not  only  the 
selfish  ambition  of  the  great  nobles,  but  also  the 
ancient  policy  and  patriotic  aspirations  of  the 
Parliaments  of  the  Kingdom,  and  more  especially 
of  the  Parhament  of  Paris,  aimed  at  confining 
the  royal  prerogative  within  strait er  limits. 

Until  the  15th  century  the  Kings  of  France 
had  derived  nearly  the  whole  of  their  ordinary 
revenues  from  the  royal  domains.  To  supply  the 
extraordinary  expenses  of  Government,  taxes  were 
voted  by  the  three  Estates  of  the  realm,  and  with 
one  exception  were  levied  in  equitable  proportions 
upon  all  classes.  The  exception  was  a  direct  tax 
called  "  la  tailley"  which  fell  exclusively  on  the 
Third  Estate,  the  nobles  being  exemptedf  rom  it  in 
consideration  of  the  peculiar  military  obligations 
imposed  upon  them  by  the  feudal  system.  Even 
the  taille,  however,  could  not  be  raised  without 
the  consent  of  the  three  Estates.  Charles  YII., 
by  the  assistance  of  the  nobles,  obtained  from 
the  nation,  then  smarting  from  the  calamities  that 


157 


resulted  from  the  English  wars,  the  captivity  of 
John,  and  the  madness  of  Charles  YI.,  the  right 
of  levying  the  taille  by  his  own  authority,  in 
order  to  afford  his  people  more  effectual  protection. 
As  has  been  remarked  by  De  Tocqueville,  one  of 
the  ablest  of  modem  French  writers,  this  fatal 
concession  was  the  origin  of  most  of  the  political 
evils  which  have  since  afflicted  France.  In  the 
beginning  the  taille  amounted  to  no  more  than 
twelve  hundred  thousand  hvres,  and  was  scarcely 
felt.  But  the  French  Kings  soon  increased  it  ten- 
fold, and  tacked  on  to  it  four  other  taxes,  each  of 
them  as  onerous  as  itself.  The  command  of  this 
large  revenue  enabled  the  Sovereign  to  maintain  a 
standing  army,  which  made  him  absolute  ruler  of 
the  kingdom,  and  to  dispense  with  the  aid  of  the 
three  Estates ;  the  nobles  conniving  at  innovations 
which  increased  their  privileges  and  Hghtened 
their  burdens,  but  prepared  the  way  for  universal 
servitude. 

As  the  growing  monarchy  burst  asunder  its 
feudal  trammels,  the  Convocation  of  the  States- 
General  came  to  be  regarded  as  an  extraordinary^ 
and  it  generally  proved  an  ineffective  remedy  for 
the  perils  or  disorders  of  the  kingdom;  as  a 
humihating  confession  which  every  ruler  shrank 
from,  of  scandalous  misgovemment,  or  national 
calamity.     In  ordinary  times  the  necessary  work 


158 


of  legislation  and  finance  was  accomplished  by 
means  of  Royal  Edicts  issued  from  the  Council 
of  State  and  registered  in  the  first  judicial  court 
of  the  kingdom,  the  Parliament  of  Paris. 

The  proceeds  of  partial  taxation  soon  proving 
insufficient  to  supply  the  ever-increasing  expendi- 
ture of  the  Government,  new  resources  were  found 
in  the  creation  and  sale  of  innumerable  public 
offices,  which  clogged  every  department  of  the 
administration.  These  offices,  carrying  with  them 
special  privileges,  chiefly  of  immunity  from  the 
taille,  were  eagerly  purchased  by  the  rich  inhabi- 
tants of  the  towns.  The  evils  and  the  confusion 
produced  by  the  multiplication  of  useless  func- 
tionaries were  enormous.  Eicheheu  was  said  to 
have  swept  away  one  hundred  thousand  of  these 
offices,  but  they  soon  sprang  into  existence  again 
out  of  the  necessities  of  the  State.  It  was  a 
favourite  financial  expedient  of  needy  rulers 
arbitrarily  to  abolish  posts  which  had  been 
conferred  for  life,  and  almost  immediately  to 
re-establish  in  order  to  sell  them  again;  the 
process  being  repeated  until  the  strange  avidity 
with  which  the  French  citizen  sought  after 
a  place  in  the  Administration  was  over- 
powered by  the  dread  of  confiscation.  The 
Government  also,  whenever  it  was  able,  contracted 
loans  at  ruinous  interest,  which,  however,  was 


159 


seldom  paid.  In  fact,  the  Kings  of  France  shrank 
from  no  means  of  procuring  supplies,  no  matter 
how  dishonourable  or  desperate,  which  might 
enable  them  to  avoid  calling  together  the  Estates 
of  their  realm. 

The  increase  of  the  King's  prerogative  was 
pecuKarly  oppressive  to  the  commonalty.  The 
clergy  had  their  own  assemblies,  and  their  special 
privileges.  To  them  and  to  the  nobles,  who 
were  exempt  from  direct  taxation,  who  had 
been  relieved  at  the  expense  of  the  poorest 
class  of  the  population  from  the  equiva- 
lent obligations  of  military  service  imposed  on 
them  by  the  old  feudal  constitution,  who  mono- 
polised pubHc  honours  and  employments,  and 
possessed  immunities  which  few  sovereigns  had 
either  the  wish  or  the  power  to  infringe,  the 
change  was  of  little  moment.  But  the  Third 
Estate,  which  bore  the  weight  of  the  public 
burthens,  being  deprived  of  the  old  constitutional 
means  of  representing  their  grievances  and  com- 
pelling redress,  and  being  shut  out  from  pohtical 
life,  found  themselves  without  a  voice  in  the  State 
or  a  share  in  its  prizes,  exposed  to  the  capricious 
tyranny  of  irresponsible  power,  and  ground  down 
by  arbitrary  exactions. 

In  this  deplorable  condition  the  Third  Estate 
found  occasional^  though  generally  unsuccessful. 


160 


champions,  in  the  Parliaments  or  High  Courts  of 
Justice  of  the  realm.  There  were  eight  of  these 
great  judicial  bodies,  the  Parliament  of  Paris  and 
seven  provincial  ParHaments;  and  with  the  inferior 
Courts  they  numbered  forty  thousand  magistrates. 
The  magisterial  offices  were  acquired  by  purchase, 
conferred  considerable  dignity  and  emolument, 
especially  in  the  capital,  and  were  held  for  life. 
The  Duke  of  Sully  had,  at  the  suggestion  of  a 
subordinate  financier  named  Paulet,  introduced  a 
custom,  by  which  the  magistrates,  in  consideration 
of  paying  to  the  Crown  an  annual  tax,  called  "  le 
droit  annuel"  or  "la  Paulette,"  amounting  to  a 
sixtieth  part  of  the  original  purchase-money, 
obtained  the  privilege  of  disposing  of  their  posts, 
like  other  property,  by  will,  or  in  case  of  intestacy, 
of  securing  the  reversion  of  them  to  their  natural 
heirs.  This  privilege  was  granted  for  periods  of 
nine  years,  renewable  at  the  pleasure  of  the  King; 
and,  though  the  termination  of  a  period  might 
sometimes  furnish  occasion  for  an  extraordinary 
demand  upon  the  purses  of  the  magistrates,  no 
desire  had  been  shown  by  any  minister  to  extin- 
guish a  custom  which,  if  strange,  worked  well, 
because  it  was  in  harmony  with  the  genius  of  the 
people.  It  was  not  uncommon  to  find  members 
of  the  same  family  holding  magisterial  appoint- 
ments for  several  succeeding  generations.     In 


161 


this  manner  was  formed  a  nobility  of  the  robe, 
sprung  from  the  bourgeois  class,  of  high  legal 
training  and  culture,  renowned  for  its  indepen- 
dence and  integrity,  possessing  considerable 
influence,  not  only  on  account  of  its  elevated 
character  and  functions,  but  also  of  its  popular 
sympathies,  and  illustrating  the  annals  of  France 
by  many  splendid  examples  of  learning,  courage, 
and  virtue. 

The  Parliament  of  Paris  held  pre-eminence 
among  the  judicial  bodies  of  the  kingdom.  It 
was  the  final  Court  of  Appeal  and  the  Bongos  own 
Court,  where  he  held  Beds  of  Justice  and  caused 
his  edicts  to  be  registered.  It  counted  among  its 
members  the  Princes  of  the  Blood  and  the  peers 
of  the  realm,  and  had  jurisdiction  over  them.  In 
the  Palace  of  Justice  it  possessed  an  august 
temple  worthy  of  its  venerable  dignity.  Around  it, 
in  the  same  spacious  edifice,  clustered  four  inferior 
Courts,  of  Inquests,  Kequests,  Aids,  and  Accounts, 
which,  on  occasions  of  great  public  or  professional 
interest,  its  First  President  was  accustomed  to 
convoke  for  the  purpose  of  general  deliberation. 
In  troubled  periods,  when  the  Executive  was 
weak,  and  particularly  during  a  Royal  minority, 
it  frequently  asserted  its  freedom,  and  refused  to 
give  by  registration  the  force  of  laws  to  oppressive 
or  unpopular  mandates  of  the  Crown.     It  claimed 


162 


the  right  of  freely  discussing  the  edicts  it  was 
called  upon  to  register^  and  of  rejecting  those  it 
disapproved.     But,  in  the  eyes  of  the  Sovereign, 
it  was  the  duty  of  Parliament  to  register  all  his 
edicts,  and  its  liberty  of  dissent  was  limited  to  a 
barren  right  of  remonstrance,  which  he  was  always 
free  to  disregard.     He  was  accustomed  to  repress 
its  opposition  by  holding  a  Bed  of  Justice  and 
causing  the  obnoxious  decree  to  be  entered  upon 
the  journals  in  his  presence ;  by  imprisoning  re- 
fractory members;    and  even  by  banishing  the 
whole  body  to  some  provincial  town.     Richelieu, 
in  order  to  annihilate  its  pretensions,  compelled 
the  Parliament  of  Paris  to  register  a  decree  de- 
claring its  own   incompetency    to    meddle  with 
affairs  pf  State.     But  on  the  death  of  Louis  XIII., 
the  Regent,  seeking  support  from  all  quarters,  had 
revived  the  ambitious  hopes  of  the  members  of  the 
High  Court  by  submitting,  contrary  to  Mazarin's 
advice,  her  husband^s  political  testament  to  their 
judgment,   by    accepting   unrestricted  authority 
^  from  their  hands,  and  by  promising  to  be  guided 
on  all  occasions  by  their  counsels.     The  Parlia- 
ment of  Paris  indeed  claimed  to  be,  by  ancient 
usage,  the  guardian  of  the  Sovereign  during  his 
minority ;  and  its  members,  though  animated  by 
patriotic   sentiments   and   full    of    zeal    for  the 
interests  of  their  order,  were  generally  governed 


163 


by  a  spirit  of  wise  moderation,  and  of  deep  reve- 
rence for  the  Royal  authority.  But  the  inferior 
Courts,  to  the  offices  of  which  less  responsibility 
and  less  consideration  attached,  contained  many 
magistrates  of  more  turbulent  and  ambitious  tem- 
per, who  were  strongly  stirred  by  the  awaken- 
ing of  popular  freedom  iu  a  neighbouring  country. 
The  bold  spirit  of  iuquiry  and  innovation  which 
found  voice  in  the  subordinate  chambers,  insensibly 
stimulated  the  views  of  the  higher  magistrates. 
Encouraged  not  only  by  its  relations  with  the 
Regent,  and  the  internal  situation  of  France,  but 
also  in  some  degree  by  the  example  of  resistance 
to  tyrannical  power  which  England  was  at  that 
time  exhibiting,  the  Parliament  of  Paris  was  not 
indisposed  to  seize  a  favourable  occasion  of  re- 
straining the  abuses  of  the  prerogative,  and  at  the 
same  time  of  vindicating  and  augmenting  its  own 
political  importance. 

The  discontent  of  the  great  nobles  of  the  feudal 
party  and  their  numerous  adherents  amon^  the 
lesser  nobility  was  a  pregnant  source  of  danger, 
not  only  to  the  tranquillity,  but  to  the  welfare 
of  the  kingdom,  because  they  were  actuated  mainly 
by  sordid  motives,  and  acknowledged  m^  their 
public  conduct  no  principle  of  patriotism  or  jus- 
jbjce.  An  unusual  combination  of  circumstances, 
skilfully  turned  to  account  by  the  arts  of  Mazarin, 


164 


rendered  them  unable  during  many  years  to  arise 
from  tlie  political  quagmire  into   whicli  tliey  had 
been  precipitated  by  their  own  folly  and  the 
vigour  of  the  Eegent.     The  policy  of   Richelieu 
had  destroyed  much  of  their  ancient  power.  Their 
proceedings  at  the  commencement  of  the  Regency 
had  discredited  them  in  the  eyes  of  the  nation. 
For  the  first  time  during  a  long  period  in  the  his- 
tory of  France  they  were  totally  bereft  of  ,the 
support  of  the  Princes  of  the  Blood.     Their  old 
chief,   the  Duke  of   Orleans^    now    Lieutenant- 
General  of  the  realm,  but  with  little  real  authority 
or  influence,  was  absolutely  ruled  by  his  favourite 
the  Abb^  la  Riviere,  whose  services  Mazarin  had 
purchased  by  the  promise  of  a  Cardinal's  hat.  With 
La  Riviere's  assistance,  Monsieur  was  alternately 
terrified  and  cajoled  by  the  Regent  into  a  docile 
acquiescence  in  all  her  measures.     The  House  of 
'  Conde,  gorged  with  offices  and  radiant  with  glory, 
steadily  supported  a  system  which  gratified  all  its 
wishes.      The  princes  of  Yendome,  banished  or 
imprisoned,  sought  by  abject  submission  and  by 
a  family  alliance  with  the  all-powerful  minister, 
to  recover  the  advantages  they  had  lost.    Stripped 
of  their  dignities,  cast  off  by  the  Regent,  forsaken 
by  their  natural  leaders,  and  depressed  by  a  long 
series  of  disasters,  the  party  of  the  old  nobility 
were  reduced  to  a  state  of  passive  dissatisfaction. 


165 


Mazarin  had  weakened  them  still  further  by  play- 
ing upon  the  selfish  aspirations  of  their  leading 
members  in  separate  negotiations,  and  by  keep- 
ing alive  the  hopes  of  all  with  occasional  favours, 
and  unbounded  promises.  But  the  multitude  of 
claims  far  exceeded  his  inclination  or  his  power 
to  concede;  and  the  discontent  of  the  feudal 
party,  though  impotent  for  the  present,  was  the 
more  dangerous  because  sustained  by  brilHant 
talents  and  courage,  and  leavened  by  extraor- 
dinary political  and  social  profligacy. 

The  century  of  faction  and  civil  war  which 
followed  the  death  of  Henry  II.  completely  de- 
moralised the  upper  classes  of  French  society.  It 
killed  patriotism  and  public  spirit ;  and  generated 
a  condition  of  poHtical  turpitude  for  which  a  par- 
allel can  scarcely  be  found  in  any  other  country 
or  period  of  modern  history.  Its  effect  on  private 
morality  was  equally  disastrous.  Scoffing  im- 
piety, which  held  nothing  sacred  among  the  living 
or  among  the  dead,  which  profaned  with  impartial 
ribaldry  the  mysteries  of  the  altar  and  the  tomb ; 
coarse  debauchery,  which  ostentatiously  violated 
the  decencies  of  life;  assassination  by  open  violence 
and  secret  poisoning,  were  frightfully  prevalent. 
The  trade  of  the  poisoner  was  associated  with 
traffic  in  spells,  and  the  detestable  charlatanism 
of  sorcery;  blasphemous  unbelief,  and  diaboli- 


/V  .  /T 


166 


cal  superstition  going  hand-in-hand.     Duelling, 
wHcli  Richelieu  had  sternly  repressed,  grew  after 
his  death  into  wholesale  butchery.     Chastity  ex- 
cited so  much  contempt,  that  women  of  strict  virtue 
affected  vice,  in  order  to  escape  disagreeable  criti- 
cism.    The  most  brilliant  epochs  of  French  history 
have  been  generally  characterised  by  sensuality, 
in  which  the  magic  garb  of  graceful  refinement 
softened  what    was   repulsive,    and    heightened 
every  charm.     The  period  of  which  we  are  treat- 
ing was  illustrated  not  only  by  the  glory  of  arms, 
but   by    unsurpassed   intellectual    activity;    but 
notwithstanding  the  decorum  that  reigned  in  her 
own  household,  the  Hcentiousness  of  the  Court  of 
Anne  of  Austria  was  grossness  itself.     The  noble 
examples   of  virtue  that  adorned  the  age  only 
deepened  the  contrast  presented  by  the  general 
corruption.     At  a  time  of  avowed  scepticism  per- 
vading every  sphere  and  every  relation  of  life,  of 
contempt  of  all  laws,  human  and  divine,  there 
were  many  of  both  sexes,  in  positions  most  ex- 
posed to  the  contagion,  who  were  governed  by  a 
spirit  of  faith,  of  noble  self-sacrifice,  and  of  chiv- 
alrous fidelity  worthy  of  the  ages  of  the  Crusaders. 
It  was  the  time  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul,  who  most 
of  all  men  brought  divine  charity  to  hallow  and 
console  human  misery;    and  nowhere   did    the 
words  and  works  of  the  venerable  teacher  fall 


167 


upon  a  more  fruitful  soil  than  in  the  fashionable 
world  of  Paris.  It  was  the  time  of  the  '^  divine 
Arthenice,'^  and  her  circle  of  the  Hotel  Ram- 
bouillet,  which  for  purity  of  tone,  not  less  than 
splendid  versatiHty  of  genius  and  all  the  charms 
of  refined  society,  is  without  a  rival  in  ancient  or 
modem  civilization.  But  it  was  still  more  the 
time  of  the  poet  Scarron  and  of  Ninon  de  FEnclos, 
whose  saloons  were  temples  of  fashion,  where  wit 
and  beauty,  genius  and  Christian  virtue  itself, 
were  prostituted  in  the  service  of  atheism  and 
obscenity. 

Perhaps  the  most  extraordinary  sign  and  effect 
of  the  deterioration  of  manners  was  the  easy  tole- 
ration practised  on  points  regarding  which  women, 
at  least,  are  usually  most  sensitive ;  the  throwing 
down  of  the  social  barriers  which  ordinarily 
separate  women  of  good  and  of  evil  repute.  The 
affectionate  wife  of  the  godless  and  debauched, 
though  not  ungenerous  buffoon,  the  intimate 
companion  of  the  shameless  courtezan,  was  a 
young  lady  of  spotless  reputation,  whom  piety 
and  strict  principles,  even  more  than  her  un- 
doubted beauty  and  accompKshments,  afterwards 
raised,  under  the  name  of  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
to  the  most  splendid  throne  of  the  world.  Bussy 
Rabutin,  who  used  his  rare  wit  to  season  disgusting 
licentiousness  and   outrageous  impiety,  was  the 


168 

cherislied  correspondent  of  Madame  de  Sevigne. 
Mademoiselle  de  Hautefort,  whose  whole  life  was 
sublime  in  its  self-sacrificing  virtue,  was  the 
bosom  friend  of  Madame  de  Chevreuse.  When 
the  distinctions  which  women  of  unblemished 
character  are  accustomed  to  preserve  with  the 
greatest  tenacity  were  so  utterly  confounded,  it 
was  not  to  be  expected  that  their  frail  sisters 
should,  in  their  conduct,  pay  morality  the  homage 
of  outward  decorum.  An  amusing  instance  of 
this  absence  of  restraint,  even  in  the  highest 
circles  of  Parisian  life,  may  serve  as  an  illustra- 
tion of  the  prevalent  tone  of  morals.  The  co- 
adjutor Archbishop  of  Paris,  the  celebrated  Paul 
Gondi,  afterwards  Cardinal  de  Eetz,  neither  whose 
remarkable  ugliness  nor  sacred  profession  pre- 
vented his  acquiring  a  dubious  eclat  for  conquests 
over  the  fair,  had  been  for  some  time  notoriously 
the  lover  of  the  Princess  of  Guemin^e.  Unhappily 
for  the  lady^s  repose.  Mademoiselle  de  Chevreuse, 
a  younger,  more  captivating,  and  equally  frail 
beauty,  seduced  the  heart  of  the  inconstant  pre- 
late. The  fickleness  of  a  gay  Archbishop  was 
not  a  circumstance  so  uncommon  at  the  time  as 
to  provoke  more  than  passing  comment ;  and  had 
the  Princess  dissembled  her  chagrin,  and  quietly 
consoled  herself  by  taking  another  lover,  or  by 
making  the  most  of  those  that  remained  to  her. 


169 


her  disappointment  would  have  been  speedily  for- 
gotten. But  the  perfidy  of  the  coadjutor  appears 
to  have  converted  the  dove-Hke  tenderness  of 
Madame  de  Guemin6e  into  all  the  rage  of  the  vul- 
ture. Meeting  him  soon  after  his  desertion  of 
her  in  a  fashionable  saloon,  in  a  transport  of 
jealous  anger  she  flung  a  foot-stool  at  his  head,  to 
the  intense  amusement  of  a  brilliant  assemblage 
of  his  flock,  who  had  the  happiness  to  witness  the 
scene. 

Debauched,  factious,  rapacious,  and  impoverished, 
without  principle  and  without  fear,  the  feudal 
party  only  awaited  an  opportunity  and  a  leader  to 
plunge  the  realm  into  confusion  in  the  hope  of 
turning  the  public  misfortunes  to  their  own  ad- 
vantage. *~ 

Such  an  occasion  as  they  sought  could  hardly 
fail  to  arise  sooner  or  later  from  the  well-founded 
and  increasing  discontent  of  the  middle  and  lower 
classes,  and  from  the  inevitable  mistakes  which 
the  Regent  and  Mazarin,  both  foreigners,  both 
imperfectly  acquainted  with  the  institutions  and 
character  of  the  people  they  ruled,  would  commit 
with  greater  frequency  and  more  fatal  results,  as 
their  course  became  obscured  by  gathering 
troubles.  The  bourgeois  and  the  peasants,  whose 
industry  fed  a  war  of  unprecedented  severity  and 
costliness,  and  the  pomp  of  an  extravagant  Court, 

VOL.   I.  I 


170 


were  cmslied  beneatli  a  weight  of  arbitrary  tax- 
ation, whicli  became  more  intolerable  every  day. 
France  bad  for  many  years  maintained  four  or 
five  separate  armies  in  tbe  field,  besides  paying 
large  subsidies  to  Sweden ;  and  still  tbe  stubborn 
spirit  of  tbe  House  of  Austria  was  unsubdued. 
Agriculture  languished  everywhere  from  the  inces- 
sant drain  upon  the  flower  of  the  male  population  ; 
large  districts  were  waste  and  depopulated;  manu- 
factures and  trade  were  slowly  perishing  under 
exorbitant  imposts ;  and  the  commonalty  execrated 
a  war  equally  opposed  to  their  national  interests 
and  their  religious  sympathies.  The  misery  of 
the  peasants  was  aggravated  by  the  cruel  rapacity 
of  the  Royal  Inten dents  and  the  wealthy  financiers, 
who  farmed  the  public  revenues  and  fattened  on 
the  general  ruin.  As  Omer  Talon,  the  eloquent 
Attorney  General  in  the  Parliament  of  Paris, 
said,  in  representing  their  condition  to  the  Queen, 
"  They  only  possessed  their  souls  because  a  soul 
could  not  be  sold  by  auction.'^  Their  groans  and 
prayers,  though  loud  and  piteous,  were  listened 
to  in  silence.  But  though  the  cries  of  the  help- 
less and  famished  people  might  be  treated  with 
indifference,  the  jealous  pohcy  which  had  led 
Mazarin  to  exclude  from  a  share  in  the  govern- 
ment the  most  able  and  experienced  of  the  states  - 
men  who  had  been  formed  by  Richelieu,  gradually 


171 


involved  him  in  troubles,  and  raised  up  against 
him  antagonisms  which  it  was  impossible  for  him 
to  disregard. 

On  the  dismissal  of  Chavigny  and  his  father, 
Bouthillier,  from  their  ofiices  of  Secretary  of  State, 
in  the  early  days  of  the  Regency,  the  Cardinal 
had  filled  the  vacant  places  with  two  creatures  of 
his  own — Le  Tellier,  a  Frenchman,  a  diHgent  and 
submissive    subordinate,   became    Secretary   for 
Foreign  Relations,  and  Particelli,  a  Siamese  ad- 
venturer, better  known  by  his  French  title  of  the 
Chevalier  d'Emery,  was  placed  over  the  finances. 
Few  historical  characters  have  been  sketched  by 
more  skilful  hands,  few  have  come  down  to  us 
pourtrayed  in  darker  colours  than  the  Chevalier 
d' Emery.      Able,    courageous,    and    witty,    but 
luxurious,   dissolute,   rapacious,   cruel,    faithless, 
and  cynical,  he  made  a  jest  of  all  moral  obliga- 
tions, and  with  reckless  scorn  openly  mocked  at 
the  miseries  aggravated  by  his  corrupt  adminis- 
tration.    The  proceeds  of  the  existing  taxes,  how- 
ever burdensome,  were  insufficient  to  satisfy  the 
calls  upon  the  royal  exchequer.     Instead  of  ren- 
dering these  taxes  more  productive  by  removing  the 
frightful  abuses  of  collection,  which  impoverished 
at  once  the  Treasury  and  the    people,    Emery 
only  thought  of  confusing  inextricably  the  public 
accounts  in  order  to  hide  his  own  peculations,  and 

I  2 


172 


perhaps  those  of  Mazarin.     As  it  was  impossible 
to  wring  further  supplies  from  the  ruined  peasants, 
he  applied  his  mind  to  the  discovery  of  some  new 
process  of  extortion  which  might  be  brought  to 
bear  on  the  wealthy  citizens  of  Paris.     Searching 
among  the  ancient  statutes  of  the  realm,  he  dis- 
interred from  the  dust  of  ages  obsolete  enact- 
ments, the  revival  of  which  promised  to  accomplish 
his  ends.     One,  passed  about  a  hundred   years 
before,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  II.,  to  prevent  the 
extension  of  the  city  of  Paris,  and  long  fallen  into 
disuse,  placed  whole  quarters  of  the  capital  at  the 
disposal  of  the  Crown.     Emery  took  immediate 
steps  to  put  it  into  execution.     The  inhabitants 
of  some  of  the  most  wealthy  regions  of  Paris  re- 
ceived orders  to  demolish  their  houses,  or  to  re- 
deem them  by  payment  of  enormous  fines.     The 
rage  and  consternation  of  the  Parisians  knew  no 
bounds.      They  appealed  for  protection  to  the 
Parliament,  and  this  body  remonstrated  with  the 
Regent  against  the   act  of  confiscation   contem- 
plated by  her  ministers.     Anne  of  Austria,  un- 
mindful of  her  repeated  professions  of  deference 
to  the  advice   of  the  magistrates,   and   of  the 
cautious  councils  of  Mazarin,  repelled  this  inter- 
ference with  a  haughty  scorn  which  would  have 
appeared  harsh  in   Richelieu  himself.     But  the 
tumults  that  shook  the  capital  scared  the  Cardinal. 


173 


In  conjunction  with  the  patriotic  Chief  President 
of  the  High  Court,  he  prevailed  on  the  Regent  to 
assent  to  a  compromise.  The  obnoxious  edict 
was  withdrawn,  and  the  Municipal  Council  of 
Paris  voted  a  subsidy  to  replenish  the  exchequer. 
This  extraordinary  supply,  however,  only 
enabled  the  Government  to  tide  over  the  financial 
difficulties  of  the  current  year.  The  charges  of 
the  war,  the  profuse  magnificence  of  the  Court, 
the  corruption  of  the  administration,  underwent 
no  diminution  as  the  exhaustion  of  the  country 
increased ;  and  Emery,  in  order  to  meet  the  grow- 
ing deficiencies  of  the  revenue,  again  and  again 
brought  forward  measures  for  the  purpose  of  ex- 
tracting money  from  the  rich  inhabitants  of  the 
capital.  He  still  continued  to  take  from  the  well- 
stored  armoury  of  finance,  which  his  researches 
had  discovered,  the  rusted  weapons  of  past  legis- 
lation, because  by  reviving  imposts  which  at  some 
time  had  received  the  sanction  of  the  Parliament  of 
Paris,  which,  though  dormant,  had  never  been 
repealed,  he  hoped  to  avoid  the  opposition  which 
might  attend  demands  for  the  registration  of  new 
fiscal  enactments.  Some  of  his  expedients,  such 
as  a  forced  grant  from  the  notables  of  Paris,  were 
simply  extortion.  Others,  as  the  imposition  of 
octroi  duties,  were  in  themselves  defensible.  But 
all  were  harshly  and  arbitrarily  enforced,  and  aU 


174 


were  resisted  witli  animosity,  which  deepened  and 
widened  every  day. 

At  the  beginning  of  these  disputes  one  or  other 
of  the  inferior  courts  of  justice  was  most  fre- 
quently the  organ  of  the  popular  discontent,  the 
High  Court  of  ParHament  giving  a  general  sup- 
port to  the  authority  of  the  Eegent.     The  office 
of  First  President  of  the  High  Court,  an  office 
pre-eminent  in  dignity  and  authority  in  the  French 
judicial  system,  was  at  this  time  filled  by  perhaps 
the  greatest  magistrate  that  even  Monarchical 
France,  which  ranked  an  unrivalled  line  of  illus- 
trious magistrates  among  its  chief  glories,  ever 
produced.     This  was  Mathieu  Mole,  a  man  of  high 
wisdom,  spotless  integrity,  unexampled  courage, 
and  iron  will ;  a  profound  jurist,  a  master  of  grave, 
earnest  eloquence,  and  of  polished  irony  ;  moderate 
in  his  views,  a  firm  supporter  of  the  throne  and 
the  laws,  and  an  enlightened  advocate  of  popular 
rights.     Mole — Conservative  by  habit  of  mind, 
and  the  jealous  guardian  of  the  privileges  of  his 
court,  which  the  impatient  spirits  who  had  sway 
in  the  subordinate  courts  showed  a  disposition  to 
invade — for  some  time  firmly  resisted  the  pressure, 
and  repressed  the  pretensions    of    the    inferior 
chambers.      If  the  Regent  had  been  wise,   she 
would  perhaps  have  found  safety  for  her  govern- 
ment in  the  dissensions  of  the  magistracy.     But, 


175 


incensed  at  the  license  of  speech  permitted  in  the 
Court  of  Inquests,  she  arrested  some  of  its  presi- 
dents and  councillors,  and  flung  them  into  prison. 
This  despotic  proceeding  aroused  agaiust  her  the 
esprit  de  corps,  which  was  perhaps  the  strongest 
sentiment  among  the  French  magistrates.  The 
companies,  united  by  common  danger,  forgot  their 
disputes.  Convoked  by  Mole,  they  unanimously 
protested  against  the  Queen's  arbitrary  act,  and 
demanded  the  release  or  trial  of  the  prisoners. 
The  haughty  disdaiu  and  the  fierce  menaces  with 
which  the  Regent  repelled  what  she  termed  their 
presumption,  only  heightened  their  irritation. 
The  state  of  the  kingdom  and  the  progress  of 
events  daily  furnished  them  with  new  motives  for 
strict  union.  The  infancy  of  the  King,  the  abase- 
ment of  the  feudal  party  and  absence  of  its  lead- 
ing members,  the  abuse  of  the  royal  authority  by 
the  foreigners,  who  monopolised  its  functions,  the 
spreading  spirit  of  resistance,  seemed  to  invite  the 
Parliament  of  Paris  to  assume  the  position  it  had 
long  coveted,  that  of  constitutional  organ  of  the 
national  wants  and  wishes,  controlling  the  legisla- 
tive and  financial  powers  of  the  Crown. 
.  This  aim  had  no  positive  sanction,  though  it 
might  find  some  colourable  pretexts,  in  the  ancient 
usages  of  the  realm.  The  Parliament  was  a 
judicial  body,  and  the  political  functions  which  it 


176 


sought  to  exercise  belonged  of  riglit  to  the  States- 
General.  But  the  States  had  not  assembled  since 
the  early  part  of  the  century,  and  they  met  only 
at  the  pleasure  of  the  Crown.  The  old  feudal 
checks  on  the  prerogative  had  been  swept  away. 
The  High  Court  was  distinguished  above  all 
existing  public  bodies  in  the  kingdom  by  ancient 
dignity,  disciplined  vigour,  legislative  and  judicial 
authority,  and  a  higher  and  wider  representative 
character.  The  disorders  of  the  realm,  and  the 
confidence  and  veneration  of  the  people,  lent  the 
motives  and  character  of  patriotism  to  its  secret 
ambition.  Baser  motives,  it  is  true — love  of 
intrigue,  self-interest,  and  private  rancour — were 
at  work  among  its  members,  as  well  as  among 
the  members  of  the  subordinate  courts.  Dis- 
appointed pohticians,  who  had  no  sypapathy  with 
its  aims,  secretly  stimulated  its  action^^jDhavigny, 
Chateauneuf,  and  the  Coadjutor  De  Retz,  three 
men  of  first-rate  ability,  each  of  whom  was  equal 
to  the  greatest  employments,  and  all  of  whom 
were  jealously  excluded  by  Mazarin  from  the  ad- 
ministration, possessed  numerous  adherents  in 
the  Chambers,  and  silently  promoted  opposition  to 
the  Government  for  the  purpose  of  overthrowing 
the  Prime  Minister.  The  Coadjutor  especially  exer- 
cised a  large  and  an  increasing  influence  amongst 
the  younger  and  more  factious  members y    But 


177 

the  majority  of  the  High  Court  and  the  most  re- 
spected magistrates  steadily  followed  the  lead  of 
their  First  President,  who,  even  when  reluctantly 
lending  his  sanction  to  perilous  and  irregular 
steps,  was  swayed  by  a  paramount  sense  of  public 
duty ;  whose  upright  and  steadfast  mind  was 
equally  proof  against  seductions  of  popular  ap- 
plause or  the  terrors  of  popular  fury,  and  the 
violence  or  blandishments  of  the  Court. 

The  dangers  that  threatened  the  Government 
from  the  opposition  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris, 
trifling  at  first,  but  more  menacing  every  year, 
were  greatly  aggravated  by  the  deficiencies  and 
the  errors  of  Cardinal  Mazarin.  The  business  of 
foreign  relations,  which  he  retained  under  his  own 
immediate  control,  and  for  which  he  possessed 
unrivalled  qualifications,  was  conducted  with  ad- 
mirable skill  and  vigour.  But  his  consciousness 
of  the  peculiar  difficulties  of  his  position  as  Prime 
^linister,  working  upon  a  temper  not  naturally 
bold,  rendered  the  internal  poKcy  of  the  Govern- 
ment feeble  and  undignified.  His  knowledge  of 
the  laws,  the  customs,  the  institutions,  and  even 
the  language  of  the  kingdom,  was  at  this  time  ex- 
tremely imperfect.  He  had  no  stand-point  in  the 
State  except  the  favour  of  the  Regent.  His  love 
of  power  had  deprived  him  of  the  assistance  of  any 
French  statesman  on  whose  capacity,  experience, 

I  5 


178 

and  sincerity  lie  could  rest  witli  confidence.  Like 
a  blind  man  groping  along  a  strange  and  difficult 
pathj  a  perpetual  fear  of  incurring  some  unknown 
peril  infected  liis  mind  with  a  fatal  irresolution  as 
to  the  steps  he  should  pursue.  Haunted  by 
chimerical  terrors,  he  was  in  a  great  measure  un- 
aware of  the  real  dangers  that  encompassed  him. 
His  favourite  political  maxim,  that  selfishness  in 
its  narrowest  sense  is  the  universal  motive  of 
Human  actions,  was  a  feeble  safe-guard  against 
the  rising  passions  of  a  stormy  age.  And  in  his 
partiality  for  finesse,  he  could  not  even  allow  this 
cardinal  principle  of  his  system  free  play.  Re- 
luctant to  part  with  a  talisman  to  which  he 
ascribed  such  potent  influence,  he  kept  an  object 
of  desire  dangling  before  the  eyes  of  some 
opponent  whom  he  purposed  to  conciliate  until, 
at  length,  disappointment  produced  incurable  irri- 
tation. His  poHcy  was  to  avoid  present  dangers 
and  to  pave  the  way  for  the  action  of  his  trusted 
ally,  Time,  by  cautious  steering  and  temporising 

expedients. 

The  haughty  Austrian  blood  of  the  Regent  sug- 
gested to  her  a  very  different  line  of  proceeding. 
She  remembered  in  what  abject  submission  the 
Parliament  of  Paris  had  cowered  before  Richelieu ; 
how  it  had  seen  Mary  of  Medicis,  the  Princes  of 
the  Blood,  and  the  greatest  nobles  of  the  realm, 


\ 


179 


imprisoned,  exiled,  condemned  to  death  by  irregu- 
lar special  commissions,  without  daring  to  utter  a 
protest.  And  she  took  no  pains  to  conceal  her 
anger  and  contempt  at  the  presumption  which 
now  assailed  the  throne  with  remonstrances  on 
behalf  of  a  few  turbulent  councillors,  mere 
pitiful  canaille.  Had  she  followed  the  promptings 
of  her  own  judgment  while  the  imperious  spirit 
of  the  late  Cardinal  still  informed  the  administra- 
tion and  awed  the  realm,  she  might  probably 
have  crushed  opposition  in  the  bud.  But  she 
constantly  allowed  herself  to  be  swayed  from  her 
convictions  of  the  necessity  of  ruling  with  a  strong 
hand  by  the  timorous  counsels  of  her  minister. 
The  result  was  a  halting  and  uncertain  policy,  the 
most  dangerous  of  any.  The  scornful  words  and 
the  violent  acts  of  the  Queen,  explained  away  in 
Bugared  phrases  by  the  Cardinal,  and  followed  by 
ungracious  concessions,  encouraged  and  inflamed 
the  opposition  of  the  magistrates  and  the  citizens, 
and  exposed  the  Government  to  contempt. 

The  animosity  with  which  the  Parisians  re- 
garded him  was  intensified  by  singular  want  of 
foresight  on  the  part  of  Mazarin,  who,  laying 
aside,  as  his  position  became  more  secure,  the 
prudence  that  had  governed  the  beginning  of  his 
career,  insulted  the  public  distress  by  displaying 
in    magnificent    buildings,  and  in    ostentatious 


180 

luxury,    tlie  enormous  wealtli    he  had    abeady 
amassed.     At  the  time  of  the   downfall  of  the 
Importants,  Anne  of  Austria,  anxious  to  escape 
from  the  sad  memories  and  the  discomforts  of  the 
Louvre,  had  removed  her  Court  to  the  splendid  and 
spacious  palace  which  Kichelieu  had  built  and  had 
bequeathed  to  his  sovereign.     The  recent  attempt 
on  his  life,  and  her  constant  need  of  his  guidance 
in  affairs  of  State,  did  not  perhaps  permit  her  to 
see  in  its  full  extent  the  imprudence  she  committed 
in  assigning  her  favourite  a  suite  of  apartments 
adjoining  her  own.     The  Cardinal,  safely  installed 
in  the  Palais  Eoyal,  and  with  uncontrolled  com- 
mand of  the  public  revenue,   indulged  without 
restraint  his  sumptuous  and  refined  tastes.     The 
most  renowned  artists  of  Italy,  architects,  painters, 
musicians,  were  invited  to  embellish  and  delight 
the  French   capital.     The  art  collections  of  his 
native  land,  an  almost  inexhaustible  and  as  yet 
unspoiled  treasury  of  genius,  were  ransacked  to 
satisfy  the  luxurious  wants  of  a  minister,  who 
united  faultless  judgment  to  boundless  resources. 
Statues,  pictures,  cabinets,  vases,  the  most  sub- 
lime and  exquisite  achievements  of  Italian  masters, 
arriving  day  after  day  at  the  Palais  Eoyal,  ex- 
cited   the  wonder  and   envy   of    the   Parisians. 
Contiguous  to,  and  as  if  in  rivalry  of  Richelieu's 
noble  pile,  there  soon  arose,  under  the  skilful 


181 

hand  of  the  great  French  architect.  Mansard,  from 
the  midst  of  vast  and  beautiful  gardens,  a  fitting 
home  for  so  many  artistic  gems ;  the  superb  pro- 
portions of  the  Palais  Mazarin,  rich  externally  in 
various  hues  of  sculptured  marble,  and  decorated 
within  by  the   brilhant   pencils  of   the  greatest 
painters    of    the   time.      The    prodigious    sums 
squandered  in  operatic  entertainments,  hitherto 
unknown  in  France,  to  which  the  Cardinal  invited 
the  Court,  excited  loud  murmurs  of  public  in- 
dignation.   The  unwise  ostentation  which  paraded 
before  all  eyes  the  colossal  private  fortune  that 
grew  apace  with  the  beggary  of  the  Treasury, 
the  wretchedness  of  the  people,  and  the  needs  of 
the  State,  was  sure  to  provoke  the  Nemesis  that 
waits  upon  insolent  prosperity.      Three  young 
damsels,   the   first   migration   of  the   celebrated 
nieces  of   Mazarin,  arriving  from  Eome  in  the 
middle  of  1647,  to  be  educated  under  the  care  of 
Anne  of  Austria,  afforded  new  point  to  the  furious 
tirades  of  the  Parisians.     Ehyming  lampoons— of 
which  the  Mazarinades  by  the  Abbe  Scarron  were 
the  most  famous— witty,  obscene,  audacious,  and 
truculent,  in  which  the  Eegent,  Mazarin,  and  the 
Mazarinettes,  aspersed  with  the  grossest  license, 
were  held   up   to   public   hatred   and  contempt, 
began  to  be  chaunted  in  the  streets  and  under  the 
windows  of  the  palace.     The  placable  and  subtle 


w 


182 

Cardinal,  with  his  tortuous  policy  and  his  gentle 
expedients,  found  that,  without  avoiding  the  fierce 
enmities  that  had  been  aroused  by  the  vigorous 
despotism  of  his  predecessor,  he  had  made  him- 
self the  object  of  popular  scorn. 

It  was  in  this  unfavourable  state  of  public 
opinion  that  the  Government  felt  itself  compelled 
by  the  exigences  of  its  position  to  send  for  registra- 
tion to  the  Parliament  of  Paris  new  financial  decrees, 
necessary  in  order  to  provide  for  the  expenditure 
of  the  year  1648.  Every  year  the  task  of  Em^ry 
had  become  more  difficult  and  more  odious.  The 
methods  in  which  he  could  exercise  his  perverted 
ingenuity  diminished  through  an  inevitable  pro- 
cess of  exhaustion,  as  the  public  exasperation 
grew  more  vehement.  But  it  seemed  to  the  Queen 
and  Mazarin,  that  the  peculiar  constitution  of  the 
French  Magistracy  now  gave  them  a  fortunate  ad- 
vantage over  the  Parhament,  which  afforded  effec- 
tual means  at  once  of  repression  and  of  extortion. 
The  period  of  nine  years,  during  which  the  Magis- 
trates, through  the  payment  of  the  Paulette,  pos- 
sessed an  absolute  property  in  their  offices,  expired 
with  the  year  1647.  Therenewalof  the  lease,  though 
rendered  almost  a  matter  of  form  by  the  custom  of 
fifty  years,  was  an  act  of  the  Sovereign's  favour. 
The  Government  preserved  an  ominous  silence  on 
the  subject.     As  an  additional  safeguard  against 


183 

the  dreaded  opposition  of  the  High  Court,  it  was 
determined  that  the  financial  edicts  should  be 
secretly  prepared  in  the  Council  of  State,  and  pre- 
sented for  registration  in  a  Bed  of  Justice. 

The  holding  of  a  Bed  of  Justice  for  the  purpose 
of  suppressing  unwelcome  discussion  was  the  most 
odious  and  absolute  exercise  of  the  royal  prerog- 
ative.    The  King  went  in  state  to  the  Palace  of 
Justice,  and  peremptorily  ordered  his  edict,  of 
which  only  the  title  was  read  out,  to  be  entered 
on  the  journals  in  his  presence.     The  theory  on 
which  this  arbitrary  stretch  of  authority  rested, 
was  that  the  wisdom  and  piety  inherent  in  Kings 
of  France  shaped  even  their  most  apparently  un- 
just decisions,  by  suggesting  to  them  motives  of 
high    and   beneficent  pohcy   inscrutable  to  less 
gifted  mortals.        But  the   special  attribute  of 
divinely  enlightened  judgment  in  the  affairs  of 
State,    with  whatever    colour  of  probabihty  it 
might  be  credited  to  a  Saint  Louis,  or  even  to  an 
ordinary  monarch  of  mature  understanding,  could 
hardly  be  seriously  predicated  by  the  most  devoted 
loyalty  of  a  child  of  nine  years.    The  boy-king  per- 
formed his  part,  and  departed  amidst  the  respectful 
silence  of  the  Parliament.   When  it  was  found  that 
the  new  edicts,  besides  other  measures  of  spoliation, 
created  twelve  additional  offices  of  Masters  of 
Requests,  exposed  for  sale  in  the  ordinary  way. 


184 


and  greatly  diminishing  tlie  value  of  those  already 
existing,  the  uproar  in  the  Court  of  Requests  was 
loud  and  angry.     An  intimation  from  the  Govern- 
ment that  the  privilege  of  the  Paulette  would  bo 
granted  to  the  members  of  the  inferior  Chambers, 
the  exception  in  favour  of  the  High  Court  being 
one  of  Mazarines  over-subtle  strokes   of  finesse, 
only  on  the  payment  of  four  years'  income  of  their 
appointments  into  the  Exchequer,  rendered  the 
tumult    general.       The  Parliament,  true  to  its 
order,  refused  to  separate  its  interests  from  those 
of  the    other  Courts,   and    in    defiance    of  the 
Regent's    menaces,    annulled   the    objectionable 
clauses   of  the  Royal   edict.     Anne   of   Austria, 
furious   at  this   unprecedented   contempt  of  the 
Sovereign's  own  act,  retracted  her  concessions  in 
regard  to  the  Paulette,  arrested  several  of  the 
more  obnoxious  Councillors,  and  threatened  the 
High   Court   with   summary   vengeance.        But 
private  wrongs  acted  as  a  powerful  incentive  to 
patriotic     zeal.       The     Parliament,     undaunted, 
threw   down  the  gauge  of  battle  by  passing  the 
celebrated  Decree  of  Union  of  the  13th  of  May, 
1648,  which   convoked  all  the  Chambers  in  the 
Hall  of  St.  Louis  to  deliberate  for  the  reformation 
of  the  realm. 

This  bold  measure   struck   the  Cardinal   with 
dismay.       By    his  instructions,  the  Chancellor 


185 


Seguier  sent  a  conciliatory  message  to  the  Palace 
of  Justice.     "  Tell  the  Chancellor,"  replied  Mol^, 
''that   we    shall   no    longer  permit  our  private 
interests  to  remain  at  the  mercy  of  a  Controller 
General,  or  trust  the  administration  of  the  realm 
to  a  foreigner."     The  Regent  was  now  beside  her- 
self with  amazement  and  anger.      The  cautious 
counsels  of  her  minister  began,  too  late,  to  fill  her 
with  distrust.     She  flung  four  more  of  the  magis- 
trates into  the  Bastille  ;  and  she  sent  Guin^gaud, 
Under  Secretary  of  State,  to  the  Palace  of  Justice 
with  an  order  in  Council  canceUing  the  Decree  of 
Union,  and  directing  that  it  should  be  torn  in  hia 
presence  from  the  Parliamentary   Register  and 
replaced  by  the  decree  of  cassation.     Guinegaud, 
arriving  with  an  armed  escort,  was  received  by 
the  excited  magistrates  with   a  running  fire   of 
taunts   and  revilings,  and    compelled  to  retreat 
in  confusion    without    having   accomplished  his 
mission.     Then  the  Regent,  incensed  to  the  last 
degree,  commanded  Mol6  and  his  colleagues  to 
appear  on  the  morrow  at  the  Palais  Royal  and 
deliver  up  the  leaf  of  their  Register  containing  the 
obnoxious  decree.     The  Parliament,  after  a  sharp 
debate,  resolved  to  obey  the  Queen's  summons  to 
the  Palace;  but  their  decision  on  the  question 
of  surrendering  the  coveted  leaf  was  expressed 
in  the  energetic  words  of  the  First   President, 


186 


"  Nee  possumus,  nee  debemus,^'    On  the  following 
day  the  Kegent,  with  the  young  King  by  her  side, 
surrounded  by  the  great  officers  of  the  Crown,  and 
by  an  unusual  parade  of  miHtary  force,  ascended 
her  throne  in  the  State  apartments  of  the  Palais 
Royal  to  receive  the  submission  of  the  Parliament. 
The  courtiers,  not  doubting  the  result,  exulted 
with  quiet  malice  over  the  approaching  spectacle 
of  humiliation.     But  when  Mol^,  conspicuous  by 
his  magnificent  head  and  his  long   white  beard, 
announced  the   decision    of   the    Chamber,   this 
serene  placidity  was  torn  by  conflicting  emotions. 
The  most  violent  counsels  were  discussed,  but  the 
prudent  advice  of  Mazarin,  which  found  a  secret 
echo  in  the  hearts  of  many  of  the  loudest  de- 
claimers,  prevailed.    The  magistrates  were  warned 
of  the  chastisement  they  would  incur  by  further 
contumacy  in  a  solemn  lecture  from  the  Chancellor, 
which  the  Queen  greatly  enlivened  by  fitful  ex- 
plosions of  uncontrollable  passion,  and  were  then 
permitted  to  depart  in  safety.     They  proceeded 
without  delay  to  carry  out  the  Decree  of  Union  by 
holding  the  first  meeting  of  all  the  Chambers  in 
the  Hall  of  St.  Louis. 

It  is  necessary  to  bear  in  mind  the  principles 
and  the  characters  of  the  Regent  and  Cardinal 
Mazarin  in  order  to  appreciate  the  disturbed,  yet 
dissimilar  feelings  with  which  they  received  the 


187 


news  of  this  deliberate  act  of  defiance.     Both  of 
them  were  unable  to  understand  the  meaning  of 
popular  rights.      In  the  eyes  of  both  absolute 
monarchy  was  the  only  just  and  legitimate  form 
of  Government,  and  opposition  in  any  shape,  or 
upon  any  pretext,  was  rebelhon.     But  the  mind 
of  Anne  of  Austria,  incapable  of  fear,  and  filled 
with  contempt  for  the  plebeian  magistrates,  was 
occupied  only  with  thoughts  of  vengeance ;  while 
the  Cardinal  was  only  too  keenly  alive  to  the 
perils  of  the  situation.     ''  God  grant  me  patience," 
Anne  would  exclaim ;  "  the  Cardinal  is  too  easy  j 
he  will  ruin  everything  by  always  sparing  and 
propitiating    his    enemies.''     "You,    madame,'' 
Mazarin  would  retort,  "  are  like  a  young  recruit ; 
you  fight,  but  you  know  not  your  danger."     In 
fact,  the  Parliament  occupied  a  position  of  great 
advantage.     They  were    strong    in    the  cordial 
sympathy  of  the  provincial  parliaments,  in  the 
universal  discontent,  and  in  the  enthusiastic  sup- 
port of  Paris.     The  great  nobles  alienated  from 
the  Government  beheld  its  difficulties  with  satis- 
faction.    Orleans,  feeble  and  fond  of  popularity, 
could  not  be  relied  on.     In  Conde,  in  whom  Anne 
of  Austria  recognised  a  spirit  congenial  to  her 
own,  lay,  notwithstanding  his  continual  bicker- 
ings with  Mazarin,  her  chief  dependence.     But 
the    Prince,    with    ill-appointed    and    mutinous 


188 


troops,  had  Ms  hands  full  on  the  Flemish  frontier. 
The  taxes  for  the  year  could  not  be  levied.  The 
treasury  was  empty.  Large  arrears  of  pay  were 
due  to  the  armies  and  to  the  officers  of  the  Court. 
The  Queen  had  to  pledge  her  jewels  and  to  borrow 
money  from  the  Dowager  Princess  of  Cond^,  in 
order  to  defray  the  current  expenses  of  her  house- 
hold, and  to  pay  the  Royal  Guards,  the  only 
mihtary  force  she  could  oppose  to  an  outbreak  of 
the  capital. 

Turning,  in  her  distress,  to  a  minister  who  had 
administered  with  ability  the  arbitrary  system  of 
Richelieu,  and  fallen  from  power  through  his 
perfidy  for  her,  which  she  had  fitly  repaid  by 
ingratitude,  the  Regent  summoned  Chateauneuf 
from  his  retreat  at  Montrouge,  and  asked  his 
assistance.  But  the  wily  old  ex-keeper,  finding 
that  he  was  expected  to  take  the  chestnuts  out  of 
the  fire  for  Mazarin,  declined  the  responsibility, 
and  counselled  concessions.  She  then  secretly 
invited  Cond6  to  Paris  to  save  the  Crown.  The 
Prince,  who  had  left  his  army  in  presence  of  the 
superior  force  of  the  Archduke  Leopold,  could 
only  advise  her  to  temporise  until  the  conclusion 
of  the  campaign.  Sick  at  heart,  and  having  no 
further  resource,  she  accepted  the  Decree  of 
Union. 

The  committee  appointed  by  the  United  Cham- 


189 


bers,  of  which  M0I6  was  chairman,  distrusting  the 
Regent^s  sincerity,  lost  no  time  in  framing  and  sub- 
mitting for  her  sanction  a  constitution  of  twenty- 
seven  articles.     One  article  abolished  the  office  of 
Royal  Intendant,  and  diminished  the  impost  called 
'^  la  taille,^^  which  pressed  so  heavily  on  the  pea- 
sants. A  second  prohibited,  under  penalty  of  death, 
the  levying  of  new  taxes,  except  such  as  might  be 
imposed  by  edicts  registered  after  full  discussion 
and  free  consent,  by  the  Parliament  of  Paris.     A 
third  article  restrained  the  Crown  from  creating 
new  judicial  or  financial  offices  without  the  con- 
sent of  the  Parliament.     By  a  fourth  it  was  pro- 
vided that  no  Frenchman  should  remain  in  prison 
longer  than    twenty-four   hours  without    being 
taken  before  his  legal  judges— a  provision  equiva- 
lent to  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act,  passed  at  a  later 
period  iq  England.     These  were  the  more  impor- 
tant points  of  this  famous  constitution.     It  will  be 
seen  that  it  not  only  swept  away  a  financial  system, 
fertile  in  fraud,  oppression,  and  injustice,  but  that 
it  lopped  away  the  most  monstrous  abuses  of  the 
royal  prerogative ;  the  power  of  compelHng  de- 
crees to  be   registered  without  examination   in 
Beds   of  Justice,   and   tlie  power   of  arbitrarily 
arresting  any   subject,  however  blameless,  and 
detaining  him  in  prison  during  the  Eling^s  plea- 


sure. 


190 


The  reforms  embodied  in  the  new  constitution 
were  resisted  by  the  Government  with  the  greatest 
pertinacity.  The  suppression  of  the  Royal  Inten- 
dants  touched  itj  to  borrow  the  words  of  the 
Coadjutor  De  Retz,  "  in  the  very  apple  of  the 
eye/^  These  functionaries,  who  farmed  the  col- 
lection of  the  taxes,  covenanted  to  pay  a  fixed 
sum  into  the  Treasury,  and  wrung  immense  pro- 
fits from  the  famine-stricken  people.  They  were 
in  the  habit  of  advancing  the  stipulated  amount 
at  the  beginning  of  each  year.  The  Government 
was  already  indebted  to  them  for  large  loans 
which  it  had  nott  he  means  of  repaying,  and  was 
in  the  direst  need  of  additional  advances.  But 
the  magistrates  were  not  to  be  moved  by  argu- 
ment or  expostulation,  and  the  Intendants  fell. 
Mazarin,  by  an  unworthy  breach  of  faith,  accepted 
with  alacrity  the  proposal  of  the  incensed  Parlia- 
ment to  reheve  the  State  by  cancelling  its  liabiHties 
to  the  discarded  financiers,  who  were  branded  as 
public  robbers.  In  order  further  to  appease 
popular  hatred,  Em^ry  was  dismissed  from  the 
post  of  Controller  General,  and  exiled  from  Paris. 

The  Eegent  also,  after  long  demur,  and  in  a 
manner  that  left  no  doubt  of  the  insincerity  of  the 
concession,  partially  allowed  the  articles  upon 
taxation,  and  freedom  of  discussion  and  suffrage. 
But  it  was  impossible  to  obtain  her  assent  to  the 


191 


provision  against  arbitrary  imprisonment.  She 
declared  she  was  ready  to  brave  every  peril  rather 
than  suffer  the  prerogative  to  be  robbed  of  its 
brightest  jewel.  In  violation  of  her  recent 
pledges,  she  again  brought  the  young  King  to 
the  Palace  of  Justice  to  command  the  registration 
of  the  accepted  articles  in  a  mutilated  form,  which 
destroyed  their  efficacy;  and  to  prohibit  the  fur- 
ther meetings  of  the  United  Chambers  in  the  Hall 
of  St.  Louis.  At  the  same  time,  with  the  view  of 
rendering  this  arbitrary  proceeding  palatable,  the 
privileges  of  the  Paulette  were  renewed  uncondi- 
tionally for  another  period.  But  the  Parliament, 
justly  indignant,  treated  the  royal  edict  with  con- 
tempt; and  matters  would  have  come  to  a  crisis  had 
not  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  whose  gracious  manners 
and  popular  bearing  during  the  late  discussions,  in 
which  he  frequently  represented  the  Crown,  won 
him  universal  favour,  been  induced  by  Mazarin  to 
implore  a  short  adjournment  of  the  pohtical  de- 
bates in  the  Hall  of  St.  Louis,  as  a  mark  of  regard 
towards  himself. 

It  was  perfectly  clear,  however,  to  both  sides  that 
no  compromise  was  possible.  Only  a  decisive  vic- 
tory could  end  the  conflict.  The  Regent  regarding 
the  unexpected  assault  of  the  Parliament  upon  the 
undoubted,  though  tyrannical  prerogatives  of  the 
Crown  as  flagrant  treason,  and  naturally  resenting 


192 

the  advantage  it  had  taken  of  the  embarrasments 
of  the  Government  in  order  to  usurp  a  character 
and  powers   foreign  to  its  constitution  and  its 
functions,  eagerly   expected   an    opportunity   of 
striking  a  blow  which  might  vindicate  the  royal 
authority  and  quell  for  ever  such  insolent  preten- 
sions. On  the  other  hand.  Mole  and  his  colleagues, 
moved  by  patriotic  indignation  at  seeing  the  pubHc 
miseries  aggravated  by   the  misrule  of  foreign 
adventurers,  were  determined  to  destroy  for  ever 
the  abuses  of  authority  that  scourged  the  country; 
to  pursue  their  present  advantage  to  the  utmost, 
in  order  to  wring  from  the  Regent  a  full  and 
formal  concession  of  all  their  demands.     And  it 
must  be  admitted  that  their  proceedings,  though 
irregular,  were  fully  justified  by  the  circumstances 
of  the  time.     The  fall  of  the  great  feudal  houses 
had  removed  the  chief  restraint  upon  the  authority 
of  the  King.     It  was  no  longer  in  the  power  of 
any  one  order  of  the  State  to  compel  the  Sovereign 
to  call  together  the  States  General ;  and  a  union 
of  the  orders  for  that  purpose,   separated  as  the 
nobles  and  the  higher  clergy  were  from  the  Third 
Estate,  by  peculiar  privileges  and  interests,  and 
by  the  contempt  of  dominant  race,  could  only  be 
brought  about  by  some  overwhehning   crisis  of 
pubhc  affairs.     The   superior  dignity  and   con- 
sideration it  enjoyed  in  the  State,  the  impartial 


193 


position  it  held  as  the  chief  guardian  and  exponent 
of  the  laws,  its  ancient  traditions  as  the  cou- 
rageous defender  of  the  rights  of  the  subject,  the 
crying  evils  of  misgovemment,  and,  above  all,  the 
loud  call  of  public  opinion,  had  imposed  on  the 
Parliament  the  lofty  and  perilous  duty  of  finding 
a  remedy  for  the  disorders  of  the  kingdom. 
Guided  hitherto  by  a  few  wise,  resolute,  and  high- 
principled  statesmen,  the  propositions  of  reform 
it  had  submitted  were  equitable  and  moderate, 
laying  the  foundations  of  secure  and  well-ordered 
freedom,  without  unnecessarily  trenching  on  the 
power  and  dignity  of  the  Crown.  The  Parlia- 
mentary leaders  saw  that  Anne  of  Austria  and 
her  minister  were  not  to  be  trusted.  They  dis- 
cerned, too,  with  patriotic  insight,  what  the  astute 
Cardinal  and  his  imperious  mistress  could  not  see 
in  their  imperfect  acquaintance  with  the  real  con- 
dition of  France,  and  perhaps  would  not  see  if 
they  could,  that  the  political  atmosphere  was  full 
of  the  signs  and  portents  of  an  approaching  con- 
vulsion. The  country  had  gradually  drifted  into 
that  unhappy  condition  in  which  change  appears 
to  all  classes  to  mean  improvement.  The  nobles 
ardently  desired  a  state  of  confusion  which  would 
promote  their  own  selfish  aims.  The  bourgeois 
class,  incensed  by  misgovemment,  and  stirred  by 
the  sound  of  the  revolutionary  tempest  that  had 
VOL.  I.  K 


194 


swept  over  England,  were  ripe  for  revolt.  The 
peasantry  having  tasted  the  bitterest  dregs  of 
misery  had  nothing  further  to  fear.  Only  prompt 
and  ample  concessions  on  the  part  of  the  Crown 
could  now  avert  from  the  kingdom  the  calamities 
of  civil  war. 

It  is  at  such  periods  of  general  discontent  that 
men  of  bold,  unscrupulous  genius  appear  promi- 
nently on  thepolitical  stage,  and,  rousing  the 
passions  of  a  nation  into  tumult,  are  borne  to 
greatness  on  the  mighty  wave  of  popular  opinion. 
There  was  not  now  wanting  a  man  of  this  stamp 
in  France,  one  of  the  most  skilful  and  accom- 
plished artificers  of  faction  that  the  world  had 
ever  seen;  a  powerful  but  sombre  spirit,  whose 
deHght  it  was  to  ride  on  the  whirlwind  and  play 
with  the  Hghtnings  of  political  convulsion,  to  rule 
in  fierce  triumph  the  wild  forces  of  anarchy; 
who,  to  serve  his  own  ambition,  collecting  all  the 
heterogeneous  and  discordant  elements  of  disaffec- 
tion in  France,  marshalled  them  against  the 
Government  in  uncongenial  association  under  the 
celebrated  name  of  the  Fronde.  This  was  Paul 
Gondi,  afterwards  Archbishop  of  Paris  and 
Cardinal  de  Eetz.  Gondi  was  bom  of  the  ducal 
house  of  De  Retz,  which  derived  its  origin  from  a 
Florentine  banker,  who  had  come  to  France  in  the 
train  of  Catherine  of  Medicis,  and  whose  family 


195 


had  been  enriched  and  raised  to  the  highest  rank 
of  French  nobility  by  the  partial  favour  of 
Charles  IX.  Nature  had  formed  him  for  the 
profession  of  arms ;  but,  being  a  younger  son, 
family  interests  compelled  him  to  enter  the 
Church.  During  the  latter  part  of  Richelieu's 
life,  the  little  Abbe  de  Retz  became  notorious  for 
his  amours,  his  duels,  and  his  active  participation 
in  plots  for  the  assassination  or  overthrow  of  the 
minister.  The  Cardinal,  although  he  seems  to 
have  regarded  the  turbulent  priest  with  a  feeling 
of  misgiving  similar  to  that  which  had  sharpened 
Sulla's  aversion  for  Julius  Caesar,  to  whose  early 
character  and  career  those  of  De  Retz  bore  a 
striking  resemblance,  dealt  leniently  with  him  ; 
and,  after  the  death  of  Louis  XIII.,  to  whom  he 
was  odious,  the  young  Abb^  was  appointed  by 
Anne  of  Austria  Coadjutor  to  his  uncle,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Paris.  This  dignity,  which  secured  to 
him  the  reversion  of  the  Metropolitan  See,  and 
gave  him  a  recognised  position  in  the  State,  was 
only^the  first  step  in  the  ladder  of  his  ambition. 
He  aspired  to  tread  in  the  footsteps  of  Richelieu 
/  ^^^to  become  Cardinal  and  Prime  Minister  of 
France.  Pursuing  this  object,  he  assiduously 
cultivated  the  favour  of  the  Regent,  and  sought 
to  fling  over  her  the  dangerous  spells  of  his  lively,^ 
wit  and  his  brilliant  fancy,  until  Mazarin,  discerning  | 


I 


196 


a  dangerous  rival^  frustrated  his  schemes  by  skil- 
fully throwing  an  air  of  ridicule  around  the  pre- 
tensions of  the  gay  but  ill-favoured  prelate.  He 
then  changed  his  tactics.  Seeing  clearly  that 
Mazarines  hold  upon  the  mind  and  heart  of  Anne 
of  Austria  was  not  to  be  shaken,  and  that  his  own 
way  to  greatness  lay  over  the  ruined  fortunes  of 
the  subtle  Italian,  he  set  himself  to  raise  such 
troubles  in  the  kingdom,  and  to  acquire  for  him- 
self such  a  control  over  them,  as  would  drive  his 
antagonist  from  the  helm,  and  render  his  own 
political  services  indispensable.  ^His  splendid 
eloquence,  which  filled  to  overflowing  the 
Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame,  his  well -simulated  zeal 
for  rehgion  and  for  the  interests  of  his  diocese, 
his  unremitting  ministrations  among  the  poor  of 
his  flock,  his  profuse  liberalities — to  supply  which 
he  borrowed  enormous  sums — won  for  him  com- 
plete sway  over  his  clergy,  and  over  the  citizens 
and  the  populace  of  the  capital.  Endowed  with 
extraordinary  genius,  devoured  by  restless  ambi- 
tion, unfettered  by  moral  restraints,  possessing  in 
an  unrivalled  degree  the  talents  of  a  demagogue 
— the  dangerous  faculty  of  swaying  multitudes, 
and  moulding  their  fickle  passions  to  his  own 
purposes — sustained  by  a  resolute  audacity  and  a 
readiness  of  resource  equal  to  every  emergency^ 
he  secretly  bent  all  the  great  powers  of  his  mind,  / 


197 

and  used  all  the  expedients  of  his  art,  to  kindle, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  rule  in  his  own  interests 
the   nascent   spirit  of   disaffection.      Proceeding 
with  wary  steps,  he  preserved  amicable  relations 
with  the  Queen   and   the   Prime   Minister.     He 
kept  up  confidential  communications  with  Conde, 
with  the  discontented  nobles,  with  Madame  de 
Chevreuse    in   exile,  with  the  most  violent  and 
therefore  most  popular  members  of  the  Chambers, 
whom  he  moved  at  will  through  the  ascendency 
of  a  superior  mind,  and  his  influence  over  the 
meaner  citizens ;  sounding  the  thoughts   of  all, 
and  making  the  designs  of  each  subservient  to 
his  own.      Besides  the  leaders  of  Parisian  demo- 
cracy and  the  factious  councillors  with  whom  he 
held  carefully-concealed  conferences  at  the  Arch- 
bishop^s  residence,  he  maintained  intimate  rela- 
tions with  plotters  of  a  more  dangerous  character. 
Such  were  Fontrailles,  Montresor,  St.  Ibal,  men 
of  infamous  lives   and   desperate  fortunes,    the 
inferior  agents  in  all  the  schemes  for  the  assassi- 
nation of  Richelieu,  whose  whole  existence  had 
been  a  dark  conspiracy  against  the  public  welfare. 
Nobles  themselves,  these  men  gave  the  Coadjutor 
command  over  numbers  of  the  inferior  nobility, 
needy  and  debauched  adventurers,  who,  for  the 
slightest  hope  of  personal  advantage,  were  ready --n 
to  throw  themselves  into  any  enterprise,  no  matter^ 


198 


^ow  perilous  or  criminal.     A  confirmed  libertine, 
and   though   one   of  the*  ugliest  and  most  un- 
graceful men  in  France,  enjoying  the  favours  of 
the  most  celebrated  beauties  of  the  time,  J)e  Retz 
had  the  art  of  making  his  mistresses   zealous 
agents  in  his   schemes.     At  the  same  time  the 
most  devout   women   in   Paris,  charmed   by  his 
fervid  preaching,  and  his  ostentatious  charities, 
trumpeted  his  virtues,  everywhere,  with  credulous 
enthusiasm.     And  yet,  notwithstanding  his  many 
vices  and  his  reckless  selfishness,  De  Eetz  would 
probably  have  made  one  of  the  most  admirable 
ministers  France  ever  possessed.     His  mind  had 
been  enlightened  and  enlarged  by  deep  study  of 
the  great  writers   of  antiquity,  whom  he   often 
rivalled  in  the  elevation  of  his  thoughts,  and  the 
elegance  of  his  style.     He  was  a  profound  observer 
of  the  men  and  the  events  of  his  own  time,  and 
he  was  probably  the  only  French  statesman,  not 
of  plebeian  blood,  who  knew  the  value  of  popular 
rights,    and     had    a     genuine     sympathy    with 
rational   freedom.    ^  His    ambition,    though    un- 
scrupulous,   was  "not   altogether    ignoble.       He 
loved  France ;  he  beheved  that  he  was  the  most 
capable  to  guide  her  destinies,  and  he  aspired  to 
link  his  name  with  her  greatness.     Had  he  suc- 
ceeded in  grasping  firmly  the  helm'  of  affairs,  like 
Julius  Caesar,  the  great  model  upon  whom  he 


199 

formed  his  life,  he  would  perhaps  have  blinded 
the  world  to  the  crimes  and  follies  of  his  youth 
by  the  splendour  of  his  later  career. 

The  Duke  of  Bouillon,  a  political  leader  of  the 
highest  rank,  who  played  a  part  only  second  in 
importance  to  that  of  De  Eetz  in  the  drama  of 
the  Fronde,  was  by  birth  a  sovereign  prince,  and 
one  of   the  greatest  nobles  of   France;  and  by 
nature  a  remarkable  man  in  an  age  fertile  in  extra- 
ordinary   characters.      His  father,   Henri   de  la 
Tour  d'Auvergne,  Viscount  of  Turenne,  chief  of 
a  powerful  and   ancient  family  in  the  South  of 
France,  and  one  of  the  most  valiant  captains  of 
Henry  of  Navarre,  had  obtained  from  his  sovereign 
in  recompense  for  his  services  the  hand  of  Char- 
lotte de  la  Marck,  heiress  of  the  Duchy  of  Bouillon, 
and  of  the  independent  principality  of  Sedan.  His 
wife  dying  without  issue,  he  married  again,  the 
sister  of  Prince  Maurice  of  Nassau,  who,  after  the 
death  of  the  Duke  of  Parma,  was  esteemed  the 
greatest  general  of  his  age.     From  this  illustrious 
alliance    sprang   two   sons,   the   subject   of   this 
sketch,  and  his  still  more  famous  brother,  Marshal 
Turenne.     The  youth  of  Bouillon  had  been  cradled 
in  intrigue,  and  his  powerful  intellect  had  been 
precociously  matured  by  the  stimulating  atmo- 
sphere  of    political  strife    in  which  the  mighty 
spirit  of  Kichelieu  lived  and  ruled.     An  aristocrat 


200 

of  the  purest  type,  and  a  Huguenot  chief,  there 
was  scarcely  a  conspiracy  against  the  great  minis^ 
ter  in  which   Bouillon  had  not  borne  a  principal 
part;  but  his  ahnost  impregnable  fortress  of  Sedan, 
conveniently   situated    on    the    confines   of    the 
French  and   Spanish  dominions,  afforded  him  a 
secure    refuge   in   reverse.     He    was   at    length 
arrested  at  the  head  of  his  troops  when  in  com- 
mand of  a  French  army  in  Italy,  for  complicity 
in  the  treason  of  Cinq-Mars,  and  was  allowed  by 
Eichelieu,  at  the  earnest  intercession  of  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  to  ransom  his  Hfe  by  ceding  Sedan  to 
the  French  Crown.     Since  the  period  of  this  com- 
pulsory sacrifice,  all  his  energies  had  been  vainly 
directed    to   recover  his   forfeited    territory,   or 
obtain   an  equivalent  grant  of  lands  or  money. 
Long  cozened  by  Mazarin  with  illusory   hopes, 
seK-interest  and  resentment  urged  him  to  espouse 
the  popular  cause.     Few  men  of  his  time  were  so 
^^g^7  gifted  by  nature  with  the  qualities  that 
achieve  success  in  a  turbulent  age.     He  was  cool 
skilful,  and  far-seeing.     He  had  at  command  an 
unstudied  yet  artful  eloquence,  equally  potent  to 
convince  a  council  of  statesmen   or  to   sway  a 
popular  assembly.     His  abilities  for  civil  affairs 
were  of  the  first  order ;  his  military  talents  were 
little  inferior  to  those  of  his  illustrious  brother. 
At  a  subsequent  period  of  his  life,  during  the 


201 

exile  of  Cardinal  Mazarin  from  France,  he  became 
the  chief  adviser  of  the  Regent,  and  his  prema- 
ture death  relieved  the  Cardinal  of  a  most  for- 
midable rival.  Although  his  general  policy  was 
deeply  leavened  by  the  selfishness  that  character- 
ised his  age  and  his  order,  he  displayed  on  many 
occasions  noble  and  generous  qualities  which  do 
not  always  survive  in  a  mind,  no  matter  how  fine 
and  chivalrous  its  original  feelings,  which  from 
infancy  has  breathed  the  tainted  air,  and  been 
nurtured  amidst  the  seething  passions  of  a  corrupt 
and  factious  era. 

The  gallant  and  accomplished  Prince  of  Mar- 
sillac,  better  known  by  his  later  title  of  Duke  of  la 
Rochefoucault,  was  another  great  noble  who 
played  a  brilliant  part  in  the  Fronde,  of  which 
he  has  left  us  such  a  vivid  picture  in  his  "Memoirs. ^^ 
Although  yet  young,  he  had  been  the  ablest  of 
the  party  styled  the  "  Importants,"  with  the 
exception  of  Chateauneuf.  But  the  cynical 
temper  and  the  fastidious  hauteur  already  ob- 
served in  the  future  author  of  "  The  Maxims " 
detracted  from  his  qualifications  as  a  political 
leader.  At  the  time  of  the  downfall  of  his  party 
he  had  deliberately  forfeited  the  distinguished 
favour  of  Anne  of  Austria,  due  to  him  for 
chivalrous  devotion  at  a  season  of  great  peril,  and 
splendid  prospects  of  employment,  rather  than  be- 

K  5 


202 

tray  his  principles  or  desert  his  old  friend  Madame 
de  Chevreuse.     He  occasionally  appeared  at  Court 
after  his  partial  disgrace^  but  was  treated  by  the 
Eegent  with  coldness  and  neglect ;  and  he  amused 
the  leisure  to  which  her  ingratitude  condemned  him 
by  literary  pursuits,  and  by  noting  keenly  the 
course  of  events.     Like  Bouillon,  la  Eochefoucault 
knew  nothing  of  the  lofty  and  Catholic  sentiment 
of  patriotism  that  animated  Mole.     A  proud  de- 
scendent  of  the  Frankish  conquerors,  the  great 
majority  of  the  nations  were  only  to  him  the  de- 
scendents  of  the  vanquished  Gauls ;  Frenchmen, 
indeed,  by  name,  but  of  an  alien  and  inferior  race, 
doomed  to  perpetual  exclusion  from  high  political 
or  mihtary  trust,  to  wear  for  ever  the  badges  of 
subjection.      Obedience  to  the  King,  within  the 
limits  imposed  by  fidelity  to  his  order  and  to  his 
friends,  was  his  rule  of  public  duty.     Following 
this  narrow   law   of    political    conduct,   he   had 
generously  rejected  the  splendid  offers  of  Richeheu 
through  friendship  for  Anne  of  Austria,  and  those 
of  Anne  of  Austria  through  friendship  for  Madame 
de  Chevreuse.      His'  mortal  foe,  De  Retz,  accuses 
him  of  habitual  deceit,  masked  by  a  show  of  can- 
dour ;  and  he  himself  acknowledges  that  he  used 
the  affection  of  the  beautiful  Madame  de  Longue- 
ville  to  further  his  political  designs.     But  nojman 
of  his  party  who  took  part  in  the  troubles  of  the 


\ 


w 


203 

■t™6J^s_governed_bj^  a  higher  sense  of  honour, 
or  was  less  swayed  by  selfish  devotion  to  purely 
personal  ends.  His  birth,  his  principles,  his  dis- 
posiBon,~  should  ^ve  made  him  the  prop  and 
iimament  of  the  throne ;  in  the  strange  confusion 
of  the  political  world  his  brilliant  qualities  and  even 
'his  loyal  character  made  him  a  tower  of  strength 
to  faction. 

Gaston,  Duke  of  Orleans,  occupies  an  unenvi- 
able eminence  among  those  pubHc  men,  without 
strength  or  dignity  of  character,  upon  whom  the 
unhappy  accident  of  birth  or  circumstance  thrusts 
a  greatness  that  only  serves  to  expose,  in  the 
strongest  light,  failings  to  which  the  pitiless  finger 
of  history  directs  the  everlasting  contempt  of 
mankind.  He  was  the  only  brother  of  Louis 
XIII.,  and  had  been  till  near  the  close  of  that 
sickly  and  unpopular  monarches  reign  heir  pre- 
sumptive to  the  French  Crown.  The  spoiled 
darling  of  his  mother,  Mary  of  Medicis,  the  hope 
of  France  in  her  impatient  writhings  under  an 
iron  despotism,  and  possessing,  in  a  considerable 
degree,  the  external  graces  and  the  superficial 
accomplishments  which  adorn  a  Court,  and  win 
popular  applause,  a  very  moderate  share  of 
political  virtue  and  capacity  would  have  ensured 
to  him  the  second  place  in  the  kingdom  in  influence 
as  weU  as  in  rank.     But  no  advantages  of  fortune. 


1 

1 


o 


O 


204 

no  indulgent  partiality  of  kis  countrymen,  could 
supply  an   utter  absence  of    sterling  worth,   or 
shield  a  nature  so  frivolous  from  just  discredit. 
Throughout  his  life,  he   appears   to  have  been 
incapable  of  forming  an  independent  resolution, 
or  of  consistently  adhering  to  any   line  of  con- 
duct, no  matter  how  obviously  conducive  to  his 
own  interests,  which  the  influence  of  a  stronger 
mind  had  forced  him  to  adopt.     Morally,  perhaps 
physically,  a  coward,  his  notorious  falseness  re- 
sulted from  excessive  timidity  rather  than  from 
r       natural  depravity.     He  was  cursed  with  a  restless, 
though  impotent,  love  of  faction,  without  being 
^f^    gifted  with  the    quahties  which  render  faction 
formidable.     The  fatuity  with  which  he  suffered 
himself  to  be  hurried  into  rash  and  criminal  enter- 
prises was  on  a  par  with  the  vacillation  which  in 
the  hour  of    action  paralysed   his   faculties  and 
wrecked  the  efforts  of  his  friends,  and  with  the 
abject  meanness  by  which  he  avoided  the  conse- 
quences of  his  folly.     Ever  the  dupe  of  his  own 
egregious  vanity,  ever  shamelessly  semle  to  the 
caprices  or  guilty    ambition  of  some   designing 
favourite,  whom  he  as  shamelessly  betrayed  at  the 
approach  of  danger,  he  had  lent  to  every  con- 
spiracy against  his  brother^s  authority  the  sanction 
of  his  support,  and  had  invariably  sacrificed  his 
accomplices  to  his  own  safety.     He  abandoned 


205 

his  mother,  and  the  gallant  nobles  who  were  ever 
but  too  ready  to  respond  to  his  call,  to  the  ven- 
geance of  Richelieu,  with  the  selfish  indifference  of 
a  mind  for  which  secure  infamy  alone  had  no 
terrors.  Louis  XIII.  extended  to  him  to  the 
last  an  indulgent  forbearance,  which  was  probably 
prompted  as  much  by  disdain  as  by  natural  par- 
tiality; but  no  ties  of  affection,  gratitude,  or  honour 
could  bind  his  fickle  disposition.  He  only  ceased  to 
trouble  the  State  when  he  had  sunk  so  low  in 
public  esteem  as  to  be  no  longer  able  to  inspire 
trust,  and  when  the  strong  arm  of  Richelieu  had 
struck  down  all  whose  support  could  lend  impor- 
tance to  his  opposition.  After  the  annulling  of 
his  brother's  will  had  shorn  his  office  of  Lieutenant 
General  of  the  kingdom  of  nearly  all  its  indepen- 
dent powers,  Orleans  remained  in  the  condition  of  a 
political  cypher,  until  the  breaking  out  of  new  dis- 
sensions in  the  State  afforded  fresh  scope  to  his 
feverish  incapacity.  It  then  appeared  that  years, 
without  bringing  him  wisdom,  had  confirmed  and 
given  a  ludicrous  development  to  his  constitutional 
timidity.  In  every  difficulty  he  shrank  from  com- 
mitting himself  to  a  definite  line  of  conduct,  as  a 
child  shrinks  from  the  goblin  terrors  with  which 
its  fancy  peoples  a  darkened  chamber;  and  he 
resorted  to  a  somewhat  similar  mode  of  escape,  it 
being  his  habit,  when  importuned  for  a  decision,  to 


I 


206 

bury  himself  for  days  together  in  bed,  until  the 
danger  had  passed  away.      Yet,  notwithstanding 
an  impotence  and  a  craven  selfishness    of   char- 
acter,  which   could    not   fail   to  provoke  scorn, 
Gaston,  throughout  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  was 
eminently  popular.     His  manners,  gracious  and 
affable,  captivated  the  multitude.     His   restless 
craving  after  importance,  combined  with  an  uneasy 
consciousness  of  real  insignificance,  inclined  him 
to  assume  an  air  of  patronage  towards  the  popular 
party ;  and  he  was  gifted  with  a  natural  flow  of 
eloquence,  which,  when  not  checked  by  unworthy 
fears,  charmed  the  turbulent  passions  of  a  revolu- 
tionary age.    His  talents  and  his  defects,  his  royal 
birth  and  his  high  office,  to  which  the  course  of 
events  might  restore   all   its   original   authority, 
rendered  him  a  formidable,   though  treacherous 
tool  for  the  hands  of  an  able  demacrocrue. 

The  advantages  of  a  close  union  with  Orleans 
di"a  not  escape  De  Retz,  when  he  had  relinquished 
the  hope  of  supplanting  Mazarin  in  the  Regent's 
favour.  Before  long  the  versatile  genius  and  the 
resolute  will  of  the  Accomplished  prelate  had 
secretly  acquired  a  hold,  unprecedented  in 
strength  and  duration,  on  the  fickle  mind  of  the 
Lieutenant  General ;  an  ascendency  fraught  with 
grave  pohtical  consequences. 

The    extraordinary    escape    of   the    Duke   of 


207 


Beaufort  from  the  high  donjon  keep  of  the 
Castle  of  Vincennes  set  loose  another  an- 
tagonist of  the  Government,  whose  opposition 
appears  to  have  been  anticipated  by  the 
Cardinal  with  nervous  apprehension.  The  mental 
calibre  of  Beaufort  was  not  by  any  means 
powerful ;  but  alone  of  the  House  of  Vendome 
he  had  inherited  the  enterprising  spirit  and  the 
popular  manners  of  his  grandfather,  Henry  IV. 
He  was  the  hero  of  the  populace,  and  especially 
of  the  fishwomen  of  Paris,  and  a  rigorous  im- 
prisonment of  five  years  had  exasperated,  to  the 
last  degree,  his  old  animosity  against  Mazarin. 
Some  remains  of  former  partiality  for  her  hand- 
some young  champion,  some  feeling  of  remorse 
for  the  terrible  fate  which  had  overtaken  his 
headstrong  folly,  led  the  Regent  to  receive  the 
intelligence  of  his  flight  with  equanimity.  She 
resisted  the  pressing  advice  of  her  minister  to 
have  him  pursued  to  his  father's  chateau  of  Anet, 
whither  he  had  retired.  Beaufort,  finding  himself 
unmolested  in  his  retreat,  opened  communications 
with  his  old  confederates  and  with  De  Retz,  im- 
patient for  any  enterprise  which  promised  him  the 
excitement  of  bold  action  and  revenge. 

In  a  society  so  pregnant  with  elements  of  dis- 
cord, and  containing  men  so  able  and  so  willing 
to  set  them  in  a  blaze,  a  spark  was  sufficient  to 


I 


208 

cause  a  dangerous  conflagration.     A  stretch  of 
authority,  rash  and  ill-timed,  but  by  no  means 
novel,  on  the  part  of  the  Regent,  lit  up  the  civil 
war  of  the  Fronde ;  so  called  in  sarcastic  allusion 
to  the  conflicts  waged  with  slings  and  stones  by 
the  boys  of  Paris  outside  the  city  walls.      During 
the  short  suspension  of  political  discussions  at  the 
Palace  of  Justice,  which  had  been  conceded  with 
great  reluctance  to  the  earnest  solicitations  of  the 
Duke  of  Orleans,  the  Duke  of  Chatillon  arrived 
in  Paris,  bringing  intelligence  of  Condi's  great 
victory  at  Lens.     The  Queen  was  transported  with 
joy,  not  so  much  on  account  of  the  defeat  of  the 
Spaniards,  as  because  she  thought  that  the  moment 
had  arrived  for  quelling   the  opposition   of  the 
magistracy  by  a  decisive  blow.      Contrary  to  the 
opinion  of  Mazarin,  who  wished  to  await  the  ex- 
pected coming  of  the  Prince  with  a  strong  military 
force,  she  determined,  in  her  fierce  impatience,  to 
brook  no  further  delay  in  making  some  of  the 
more  factious  presidents  and  councillors  belong- 
ing to  the  extreme  party  of  the  Chambers,  who 
shaped  their  proceedihgs  in  avowed  emulation  of 
the  Parliamentary  leaders  in   England,  feel  the 
weight   of  her   anger.     The   most   obnoxious  of 
these   was    an   old   councillor  named    Broussel, 
poor,  honest,  of  slender  capacity,  and  Repubhcan 
opinions,  whose  violent  harangues  and  simple  life 


209 


attracted  the  love  and  admiration  of  the  lowest 
class  of  citizens.  These  revered  him  as  a  model 
of  patriotic  virtue,  and  styled  him  their  father. 
The  foolish  old  man,  when  spouting  sedition,  was 
merely  the  mouth-piece  of  the  Coadjutor.  As 
often  as  it  suited  the  policy  of  the  scheming  pre- 
late to  increase  or  give  a  new  direction  to  the 
agitation  of  the  public  mind,  he  secretly  inspired 
Broussel  with  the  ideas  he  wished  to  have  venti- 
lated in  the  Palace  of  Justice. 

The  26th  of  August,  the  day  appointed  for  a 
religious  service  at  Notre  Dame,  in  pubKc  thanks- 
giving for  the  success  of  the  French  arms,  was 
fixed  upon  in  private  conclave  at  the  Palais  Royal 
for  the  coup  d^&tat.  The  King  and  the  Regent,  at- 
tended by  the  whole  Court,  proceeded  in  state  to 
the  Cathedral,  the  regiments  of  Guards  lined  the 
way,  and  were  massed  at  convenient  points  along 
the  route.  The  Parliament,  the  municipal  authori- 
ties, and  the  other  civil  or  ecclesiastical  corpora- 
tions of  the  capital  were  present  in  their  robes  of 
ceremony.  The  Coadjutor,  assisted  by  a  crowd 
of  prelates  blazing  in  the  splendour  of  religious 
pomp,  ministered  at  the  altar,  chaunted  the  Te 
Deum,  and  consecrated  the  captured  standards; 
and  at  the  conclusion  of  the  service  the  royal 
cortege  returned  quietly  to  the  Palace.  So  well 
had  the  design  of  the  Regent  been  cloaked  by  her 


210 

placid  serenity,  and  by  the  benevolent  professions 
of  the  Cardinal,  that  even  the  lynx-eyed  vigilance 
of  the  Coadjutor  was  lulled  to  rest.     The  first  cir- 
cumstance that  awakened  suspicion  was  the  un- 
usual spectacle  of  Comminges,  Lieutenant  of  the 
Swiss  Guards,  whose  duty  it  was  to  precede  his 
sovereign,  lingering  in  the  church  after  the  King's 
departure.      The   ominous   news   was   whispered 
from  bench  to  bench.     A  panic  seized  the  ranks 
of  the  Parliament.     They  rushed  forth  pell-meU 
through  all  the  doors,  and  in  the  struggle  and 
confusion   the   magistrates,  marked  out   for   the 
vengeance    of    the    Government,   effected    their 
escape,  with  the  exception  of  the  President  Blanc- 
mesnil,  who  was  hurried  off  to  Vincennes.     Com- 
minges  then  went,  preceded  by  a  coach  and  a 
strong  escort,  in  search  of  Broussel,  who  lived  in 
a  mean  house,  in  a  narrow  squalid  street  by  the 
river.     The  old  councillor  had  absented  himself 
from  the  religious  ceremony,  and  was  found  in 
his  dressing-gown  and  slippers  at  dinner  with  his 
family.     Terror  at  the  sight  of  the  King's  Lieu- 
tenant deprived  him  of  speech  or  motion,  and  he 
was  dragged  off  by  Comminges,  somewhat  un- 
ceremoniously,  and  flung  into  the  coach.     But  in 
the  meantime  an  old  female  domestic  had  rushed, 
with  shrieks  and  wild  gestures,  to  an  open  window' 
and  filled  the  air  with  her  cries,  ''  To  the  rescue 


211 

of  Broussel,  the  Father  of  the  People."  The 
bargemen  from  the  neighbouring  wharves,  and 
the  whole  ragged  population,  male  and  female,  of 
the  dingy  alleys  which  crowded  the  quarter, 
roused  by  her  appeals,  swarmed  forth  in  fury, 
armed  with  every  weapon  their  rage  could  find. 
Stones,  brickbats,  and  domestic  utensils  rained 
upon  the  escort.  The  carriage  was  smashed  to 
pieces ;  but  after  a  series  of  desperate  combats, 
Comminges,  by  the  timely  succour  of  a  fresh 
body  of  guards,  was  enabled  to  carry  off  his 
prisoner  to  St.  Germain. 

The  blow  by  which  the  Eegent  hoped  to  crush 
sedition  in  the  Chambers  had  now  fallen,  though 
with  only  partial  success ;  but  the  consequences  of 
this  act  of  violence  were  far  different  from  what 
she  had  anticipated.  In  her  blind  anger  she  saw 
not,  and  recked  not,  how  thoroughly  the  whole 
body  of  society  was  quickened  by  the  restless  dis- 
content which  tossed  and  frothed  on  the  surface ; 
that  the  blatant  demagogues  whom  she  had  seized 
were  but  puppets  moved  by  the  secret  agency  of 
skilful  hands.  Hardly  had  she  tasted  its  delights 
when  she  was  rudely  awakened  from  her  dream  of 
vengeance  by  the  armed  hand  of  revolt.  In  an 
incredibly  short  time  all  Paris  was  in  arms. 
Insurrection  bristled  in  every  street,  and  the  tide 
of  the  living  sea,  forcing  its  impetuous  way  over 


I 


212 

the  feeble  obstacles  that  only  excited  its  rage, 
choked  up  all  the  avenues  of  the  Palais  Royal! 
De  Retz,  taken  completely  by  surprise,  and  de- 
sirous of  keeping  on  good  terms  with  the  Eegent, 
set  out  on  hearing  of  the  commotion,  without  even 
takmg  time  to  put   off  his   episcopal  vestments, 
from  the  Cathedral  to  the  Palace.      On  the  Pont 
Neuf  he  saw  Marshal  la  MeiUerai  with  a   handful 
of  mounted  guards  beset  by  an  angry  mob,  led 
on  by  BrousseFs  terrible  old  woman  servant,  and 
in  imminent  peril  of  being  flung  over  the  battle- 
ments  into  the  river.  The  Marshal,  in  self-defence, 
had  shot  a  porter,  and  the  bleeding  body  excited 
the  fury  of  the  porter's  comrades.  The  appearance 
of  the  Coadjutor  somewhat  calmed  the   tumult. 
Borne,  amidst  vociferous  cheers,  over  the  heads 
of  the   crowd,  he  knelt  down  in  the  mud   and 
administered  to  the  dying  man  the  consolations 
of  religion.     Then,  mounting  the  parapet  of  the 
bridge,  he  harangued  the  multitude,  rescued  the 
Marshal  from  their  hands  by  promising  to  inter- 
cede with  the  Regent  for  Broussel,  and  proceeded 
to  fulfil  his  mission,  tlie  vast  throng  kneeling  for 
his  benediction. 

The  Archbishop  found  Anne  of  Austria  boiling 
with  indignation.  Contemning  the  clamour  of  in- 
solent canaille,  and  suspecting  the  ambitious  pre- 
late—whose influence  over  the  lower  classes  of  Paris 


213 

had  been  maliciously  brought  to  her  recollection, 
with  injurious  comments,  by  Mazarin — of  fostering 
the  outbreak,  she  received  his  advice  and  his 
proffers  of  service  with  fierce  displeasure  and 
menacing  gestures,  which  all  her  powers  of  dis- 
simulation were  unable  to  control.  She  scoffed 
at  his  representations  of  danger,  and  declared  that 
rather  than  release  her  prisoners  she  would  strangle 
them  with  her  own  hands.  At  length,  unable  any 
longer  to  retain  the  slightest  appearance  of  com- 
posure, she  swept  disdainfully  from  the  presence 
chamber,  and  slammed  the  door  of  the  little 
adjoining  room  to  which  she  was  accustomed  to 
retire.  The  courtiers,  though  really  uneasy, 
flattered  the  mood  of  their  mistress.  Some 
openly  mocked  at  the  astonished  prelate;  some 
paid  him  ironical  compliments  on  his  popularity 
with  his  flock ;  some  imitated  the  cries  of 
BrousseFs  beldame.  De  Retz,  though  incensed 
and  alarmed  at  the  demeanour  of  the  Queen, 
yielded  to  the  urgent  entreaties,  and  even  gentle 
violence  of  Orleans  and  Mazarin,  who  shuddered 
at  the  peril,  and  issued  forth  again  with  La 
Meillerai  to  pacify  the  iusurgents. 

The  Marshal,  who  was  a  man  of  impetuous 
temperament,  having  mounted  his  horse,  galloped 
among  the  crowd,  brandishing  his  sword  and  shout- 
ing ^'  Long  live  the  King,  liberty  for  Broussel." 


I 


1*1 


214 

The  people  in  the  distance,  unable  to  catch  his 
words,  and  mistaking  his  intentions,  overwhelmed 
him  and  his  escort  with  a  shower  of  missiles.    The 
soldiers  fired  with  deadly  efPect,  and  pursued  the 
flying   multitude  to   an    open   space   called    the 
Croix  de    Trahoir,  where  they  were   swallowed 
up  by  converging  torrents  of  the  insurgents.     In 
the   meanwhile  De   Retz   had   been  seized,    and 
carried    along  with    joyous    shouts   by   a  mud- 
grimed  body  of    his   admirers   into   the   melee, 
where  the  blow  of  a  stone,  behind  the  ear,  felled 
him  to  the  ground.     As  he  lay  partially  stunned, 
an  infuriated  ragman  presented  a  pistol  to  his  head 
in  order  to  blow  out  his  brains.     With  admirable 
presence  of  mind  he  exclaimed,  ''  Hold,  wretch ; 
ah !  if  your  father  only  saw  you.'^     The  ragman, 
shocked  at  the  idea  of  killing  his  father^s  friend 
looked  at  his  victim,  recognised  the  Archbishop, 
and,  stricken  with  horror  at  the  crime  he  had  been 
about   to  commit,   uttered   penitential  howHngs. 
The  multitude,  attracted  by  the   cries,   hurried 
eagerly  to  the  spot,   permitting  La  Meillerai  a 
second  time  to  escape.     Tenderly  raising  De  Retz, 
they  bore  him  back  to  the  palace  "to  tell  Madame 
Anne  the  will  of  the  people.^^ 

The  Coadjutor  again  pressed  upon  the  Regent 
the  necessity  of  conceding  the  popular  demands, 
and  was  warmly  supported  by  la  Meillerai,  who 


215 


bore  grateful  testimony  to  the  great  and  perilous 
services  De  Retz  had  rendered  the  Crown,  and  to 
the  irresistible  force  of  the  insurrection.  But  Anne 
of  Austria,  more  enraged  than  ever,  and  confirmed 
in  her  unjust  suspicions  by  the  evident  sway  the 
Coadjutor  exercised  over  her  rebellious  subjects, 
repaid  his  exertions  with  bitter  reproaches,  and 
rejected  his  counsels  with  scorn  and  defiance.  The 
vague  promises  which  terror  extorted  from  the 
Cardinal  he  knew  to  be  worthless.  Making  the 
most  of  these,  however,  and  assisted  by  the 
promptings  of  hunger  and  the  approaching 
night-fall,  he  prevailed  on  the  majority  of  the 
insurgents  to  disperse.  Then,  faint  with  fatigue, 
long  fasting,  and  the  pain  of  severe  contusions 
on  his  head  and  side,  he  returned  to  the  Archi- 
episcopal  Palace. 

When  De  Retz  reached  home,  his  mind  became 
a  prey  to  the  most  gloomy  emotions  ;  the  evident 
disKke  of  the  Regent  woimded  his  vanity,  and 
dashed  down  the  ambitious  hopes  he  had  founded 
on  her  former  favour ;  her  resentful  distrust,  so 
ungrateful,  and  so  unfounded  in  the  present  emer- 
gency, cut  him  to  the  soul,  and  filled  him  with 
dark  forebodings.  As  he  tossed  restlessly  on  his 
couch,  racked  by  anguish  of  mind  and  body,  one 
of  his  friends,  arriving  from  the  Palais  Royal, 
brought  him  intelligence    that  the    Court    was 


li 


216 

flushed  with  extravagant  exultation  at  the  rapid 
dispersion  of  the  insurgents,   and  that  his  own 
adventures  during  the  day  had  been  an  accept- 
able theme  of  jest  and  sarcastic  comment  at  the 
^        Regent's  suppeh  Later  on,  a  message  was  brought 
to  him  from  Marshal  la  Meillerai  warning  him  to 
provide  for  his  safety,  as  it  had  been  determined 
to  exile  him  to  Quimper,  to  shut  up  Broussel  in 
the  citadel  of  Havre,  and  to  banish  the  Parliament 
to    Montargis.      Starting   up  with  an   oath,   he 
inveighed   against  the  folly  and  ingratitude  of 
the  Court,  and  vowed  before  the  following  night 
to  have  all  Paris  at  his  feetj 
(    The  capital  was  divided  into  sixteen  sections 
m  each  of  which  the  substantial  citizens  were 
regularly  mustered  and   trained   to  arms,  under 
officers  chosen  by  themselves.     The  Eegent  and 
Mazarin,  in  their  ignorance  of  the  disposition  of 
the  middle  classes,  relied  with  confidence  on  the 
loyalty  of  the  Municipal  Guards,  and  had  issued 
directions  to  them  to  assemble  for  the  defence  of 
order  on  the  following  day.     In   fact,  although 
the  burghers  had  assumed  arms  to  protect  their 
houses  from  pillage,  they  had  hitherto  remained 
inactive   spectators   of   the  movement  to  rescue 
Broussel.     But   the  commanding  officers  of   the 
principal   quarters,  and  still   more   their  wives, 
were  devoted    to    De  Retz ;   and    the    citizens  H 


\^ 


Mj> 


!U 


^  '     v>\ 


^^j^\yshj^  ^^ 


0 


217 

[generally,  while  anxious  to  protect  their  property 
'^from  the  rabble,  were  full  of  zeal  for  the  Parlia- 
ment and  of  hatred  for  Cardinal  Mazarin.     The 
Coadjutor  sent  for  some  of  the  leading  inhabi- 
tants  of    the   different   sections,  painted  in  the 
darkest  colours  the  designs  of  the  Government, 
and  arranged  with  them  the  plan  of  a  general  in- 
surrection.    Then  issuing  forth  at  midnight,  in 
the  dress  of  a  cavalier,  he  traversed  the  streets, 
rousing  up  his  adherents  in  the  chambers,  and 
troubling  the  air  with  sinister  rumours  and  vague 
alarms   of  approaching   danger.      At  the   same 
time    his    numerous    aides-de-camp   among   the 
inferior  nobles— the  dark  brood  of  social  corrup- 
tion, skilled  from  long  practice  in  all  the  arts  of 
sedition— penetrating  in  the  guise  of  artizans  the 
dens  of  poverty  and  crime  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Notre  Dame,  and  flitting  about  the  watch-fires 
on  the  Quai  des  Orf evres,  where  bands  of  despera- 
does bivouacked  for  the  night,  howling  and  dancing 
around  the  flames,  spread  disquieting  reports  re- 
garding  the  fate   of  Broussel,  and  incited  the 
populace  to  rescue  or  avenge  him.     Having  laid 
the  train  and  lit  the  match^  De  Retz  returned 
home  to  await  the  explosion. 

The  tocsin  rang  out  in  loud  peals  through  the 
different  quarters.     The  alarmed  citizens,  rushing 
forth  at  the  summons,  learned  with  indignation 
VOL.  I.  ^ 


r 


218 

from  their  leaders  the  perfidious  projects  of  the 
detested  ItaHan,  and  hastened  to  range  themselves 
under  the  civic  banners.     The  motley  population 
of  the  poorer  regions  streamed  forth  again;  some 
brandishing  the  implements  of  their  crafts,  some 
carrying  broken  match-locks,  some  clad  in  tar- 
mshed    cuirasses,    decorated     with    half-effaced 
emblems  of  the  Holy  League,  or  dragging  along 
rasty  pikes  that  had  done  service  at  Agincourt 
Strong  chains  were  drawn  across  the  entrances  of 
the  streets,  and  barricades  were  piled  up  at  every 
pomt  of  advantage.    At  five  o'clock  the  Parlia- 
ment assembled,  decreed  the  arrest  of  Comminges 
and  his  accomplices,  and  the  impeachment  of  the 
mmisters ;  and  resolved  to  proceed  m  a  body  to 
the  Palais  Royal,  to  demand  the  release  of  their 
colleagues. 

In  the  meantime  tlie  ChanceUor  Seguier  had 
been  summoned  at  an  early  hour  to  the 
Palace,  where  he  received  from  Mazarin  a 
written  mandate,  with  orders  to  deliver  it  without 
delay  to  the  Parhament.  His  brother,  the  Bishop 
of  Meaux,  and  his  beautiful  daughter,  the  Duchess 
of  SuUy,  on  being  informed  of  the  hazardous 
nnssion  entrusted  to  him,  insisted  on  accompany, 
ing  hmi  to  share  his  danger.  Their  coach  was 
stopped,  amidst  hostile  manifestations  at  the  first 
barricade.    The  ChanceUor,  resolute  to  dischai-ge 


219 

his  duty  at  all  risks,  and  hoping  to  accomplish  the 
journey  to  the  Palace  of  Justice  unmolested  on  foot, 
alighted,  and  sent  the  carriage  with  his  brother 
and  daughter  to  await  his  arrival  at  the  Hotel  de 
Luynes.  The  Bishop  and  his  niece  found  the  man- 
sion silent  and  closely-barred,  and  as  they  were 
still  knocking  for  admittance,  they  perceived 
Seguier  flying  towards  the  Court-yard  for  his 
life,  closely  pursued  by  a  savage  mob.  A  sleepy 
woman-servant,  moved  by  the  cries  and  prayers  of 
the  Duchess,  gave  the  fugitives  entrance,  and  had 
barely  time  to  show  them  a  closet  concealed  in  the 
pannelling  of  the  hall,  when  the  outer  doors  were 
burst  in  by  the  rabble  with  triumphant  yells. 
The  insurgents  searched  all  the  apartments,  fired 
up  the  chimneys,  and  sounded  the  wainscoating 
with  the  butt-ends  of  their  muskets,  venting 
their  rage  in  frightful  threats  and  imprecations. 
The  Chancellor,  believing  that  his  last  hour  was 
come,  confessed  to  the  Bishop  of  Meaux,  and  pre- 
pared to  meet  his  fate.  But  before  his  pursuers 
were  able  to  discover  his  hiding-place,  they  were 
dislodged  by  the  attack  of  a  body  of  the  Swiss 
Guards,  whom  Marshal  la  Meillerai  led  to  his 
rescue.  The  unhappy  objects  of  the  popular  fury, 
having  already  tasted  of  the  bitterness  of  death, 
set  out  again,  under  the  protection  of  the  troops, 
to  encounter  the  baffled  vengeance  of  their  assail- 

L  2 


220 

ants.     The  mob,  rallying  in  the  streets,  charged 
the  escort,  and  riddled  the  carriage  with  a  volley  of 
musketry.     The  Duchess,  struck  by  a  bullet,  fell 
insensible  into  her  father's  arms.     But  the  Swiss 
fought  their  way  gallantly  through  the  press,  and 
succeeded  in   placing    the    Chancellor    and    his 
family — more  dead  than  ahve — within  the  shelter 
of  the  Palais  Eoyal.      When  Anne  of  Austria 
awoke  at  nine  o'clock,  it  was  to  learn  that  the 
spent  commotion,  which  she  had  contemptuously 
compared,  on  the  preceding  night,  to  a  fire  of  straw, 
had  burst  forth  again  in  universal  and  skilfully- 
organised  revolt ;  that  more  than  twelve  hundred 
barricades,  surmounted    by  the  banners   of  her 
loyal    companies,  raised    their   menacing   forms 
on  every  side  of  the  Palace ;  and  that  one  hundred 
thousand  citizens  were  in  arms  to  wrest  the  popu- 
lar magistrates  from  her  grasp. 

The  danger  that  gathered  round  the  Regent, 
far  from  appalling  her,  only  exasperated  her 
pride.  In  vain  the  Governor  of  Paris,  and  such 
of  the  city  authorities  as  remained  faithful  to 
their  trust,  rushing  pale  and  breathless  into  her 
presence,  in  disordered  and  stained  apparel 
which  bore  evidence  to  the  perils  they  had 
encountered,  warned  her  that  the  excited  people 
were  ready  to  trample  her  guards  under  foot,  and 
to  tear  down  the  palace  stone  from  stone.     In  vain 


221 

Orleans,  Mazarin,  and  the  crest-fallen  court  iers, 
with  tears  in  their  eyes,  implored  her  to  yield.   In 
vain  Mole  and  his  colleagues,  who  had  marched  in 
long  procession  from  the  Palace  of  Justice  through 
the  insurgent   hosts,  entreated  her  to  save  the 
reahn  from  the  catastrophe  in  which  conflicting 
passions  were  about  to   plunge  it.     She  vehe- 
mently reproached  the  First  President  with  the 
seditious   conduct    of   the    Parliament,   and   de- 
nounced against  it  a  vengeance  which  should  be 
memorable  to  all  succeeding  times.    Tears  of  rage 
and  scorn  gushed  from  her  eyes  at  the  pusillani- 
mous desertion  of  her   Council.     But   her   own 
resolution  never  faltered  ;  she  declared  she  would 
never  yield  to  the  dictation  of  vile  canaille.     One 
ray  of  hope  flashed  across  her  gloomy  meditations 
as  she  sat  aloof  in  her  little  grey  chamber — as  her 
usual  retiring  room  was  called — calm  upon  her   . 
brow,  fury  and  almost  despair  in  her  heart.     In- 
stinctively recognising  in  the  formidable  move- 
ment that  so  suddenly  confronted  her  the  master 
hand  which  had  organised  and  impelled  it,  she  sent 
for  the  Coadjutor.      De  Eetz  replied  that  he  was 
her  Majesty's  very  humble  servant,  but  that  the 
injuries  he  had  received,  in  her  service,  on  the 
previous  day  rendered  him  unable  to  leave  his 

bed. 

In  the  meantime  the  Parliament  had  set  out,  on 
their  return  to  the  Palace  of  Justice,  in  order  to  de- 


222 


223 


liberate  on  the  Eegent's  answer  to  their  petition. 
The  magistrates  were  soon  stopped  and  questioned 
by  the  ferocious  populace,  and  being  unable  to 
announce  the  release  of  Broussel,  had  a  narrow 
escape  of  being  torn  to  pieces.     Several  of  them 
casting   away  their  robes,   fled   for   their  lives. 
Mole,   incapable  of  fear,    bore  with   undaunted 
composure  the  violence  and  insults,  for  which  he 
was  the  especial  mark.     But,  though  unmoved  at 
his  own  danger,  he  saw  with  patriotic  anguish 
that  the   safety  of  the  city,   and    even   of  the 
monarchy    were    at  stake;    and   he   slowly    re- 
traced his  way  to  the  Palais  Eoyal,  determined  to 
break,  by  a  supreme  effort  of  his  iron  will,  the 
unbending  obstinacy  of  the  Regent.  Entering  her 
presence  again,  he  addressed  her  in  words  of  stem 
remonstrance,  to  which  her  ears  had  long  been 
unaccustomed.        His    passionate     energy,     the 
agonised  apprehension  for  the  fate  of  his  young 
Sovereign  that  shook  his  intrepid  nature,  struck 
her  dumb,  and  quelled  her  haughty  spirit.     In 
the  lurid  light  whiqh  his  burning  eloquence  threw 
upon  the  picture  of  impending  ruin,  she  at  length 
saw  the  terrible  peril  of  the  State.    The  Princesses 
of   the  Blood,  and  the  ladies  of  her  household, 
chilled  with  terror  to  the  marrow  of  their  bones 
flung  themselves  at  her  feet  and  besought  her  to 
have  pity  on  them.     The  unfortunate  Queen  of 
England,  a  penniless  outcast  in  her  native  land. 


mournfully  seconded  their  prayers,  assuring  Anne 
that  the  civil  war  which  had  laid  her  husband's 
throne  in  the  dust  had  not  worn  such  a  terrible 
aspect,  at  the  beginning,  as  this  insurrection  now 
presented.     The  cries  and  imprecations  that  rose 
nearer  and  more  threatening  in  the  air,  told  her, 
in  language  that  could  no  longer  be  mistaken, 
that  the  stormy  wave  of  revolution  was  fast  sap- 
ping the  foundations  of  the  throne.     She  felt  the 
sceptre  of  Regency  trembling  in  her  grasp ;  she 
saw  the  crown  tottering  on  the  youthful  brow  of 
her   son ;    and,  burning   with   shame  and  indig- 
nation,  yielded  to  inexorable  necessity.     Royal 
carriages  were   despatched    to  bring  back    the 
liberated  magistrates  to  their  homes.     The  whole 
capital,  frantic    with  joy,   flocked  to   swell  the 
triumphal  entry  of  Broussel.       The   Parliament 
gave  him  a  public  reception,  and  then,   on  his 
proposal,    decreed  that  the   citizens   should  lay 
down  their  arms,   and  demolish  the  barricades. 
In  a  few  hours  the  vast  multitudes  had  quietly 
dispersed,  traffic   flowed   again  without  impedi- 
ment through  its  myriad    channels,  and   every 
vestige   of   the  revolt   had    disappeared.       The 
whole  struggle,  so  furious  and  so  brief,  rose  and 
fell  as  if  it  were  some  magic  spectacle  that  had 
started  into  life  and  vanished  at  successive  waves 
of  an  enchanter's  wand.     This  was  the  first  act  of 
the  strange  drama  of  the  Fronde. 


i 


224 


CHAPTER  V. 


The  rude  lesson  she  had  received  from  the  popular 
party  which  she  held  in  such  contempt,  without 
altering  Anne  of  Austria^s  determination  to  up- 
hold with  a  high  hand  all  the  arbitrary  preroga- 
tives   of    the   Crown,  taught  her  the  value   of 
Mazarines  prudent  counsel  not  to  attempt  a  blow 
at  the  Parliament  until  the  presence  of  Conde, 
with  his  troops,  enabled  her  to  strike  with  decisive' 
effect.     All   her  hopes  of  triumph  and  revenge 
now  rested  on  the  Prince.     The  empire  which  the 
Cardinal  had  established  over  her  mind  and  her 
affections    was    not,   indeed,   sensibly  impaired. 
But  she   began  almost   involuntarily  to  distrust 
gentleness  so  little  in  unison  with  her  own  fierce 
passions;   to  doubt  whether  he  possessed  force 
and  decision  of  character  sufficient  to  oppose  re- 
volutionary violence.     The  rank,  the  principles, 
the  ^  imperious    nature,  the    unrivaUed   military' 
genius,  and  the  repeated  pledges  of  the  victor  of 
Lens  led  her  to  count  upon  him  with  confidence 
as  the  surest  support  and  avenger  of  her  outraged 


225 

authority.  Dissembling  her  feelings  in  order  to 
gain  time  to  concert  a  plan  of  operations  with  the 
Prince,  she  sent  again  for  De  Retz,  upon  whom 
the  success  of  the  outbreak  seems  to  have  acted 
as  a  sovereign  restorative,  received  him  with  flat- 
tering professions  of  penitence  and  esteem,  and 
requested  him  to  pay  the  equally  contrite 
Cardinal  a  visit  of  reconciliation.  The  Coadjutor 
found  the  minister  in  familiar  conference  with 
Broussel,  heaping  civilities  on  the  bewildered  old 
councillor,  and  was  welcomed  with  open  arms. 
But  his  political  insight  was  too  keen  to  be  de- 
ceived a  second  time  by  the  fair  appearances  of 
the  Court.  He  saw  that  the  struggle  between 
the  Regent  and  the  Parliament— between  Mazarin 
and  himself— was  only  beginning.  ]  Distrusting 
the  ability  of  the  magistrates  to  withstand  the 
Government,  he  secretly  laboured  with  all  his 
energy  and  skill  to  build  up  a  mighty  auxiliary 
confederacy  of  great  nobles  and  popular  leaders, 
of  which  he  had  already  laid  the  foundations,  and 
by  means  of  which  he  intended  to  hurl  his  Italian 
rival  from  power,  and  to  mount  into  his  vacant 

seat^ 

r^trange  to  say,  the  chief  of  the  Fronde,  who 
figured  in  his  schemes,  who  was  to  give  the  new 
coalition  cohesion  and  irresistible  force,  was  the 
same  personage  on  whom  the  Regent  relied  toi 

L  5  -^ 


226 

<^h  it  to  pieces.     The  splendid  genius  of  Conde 
had  kindled  in  the  mind  of  De  Eetz  an  ardent 
admn-ation,  which  the  exasperation  of  disappointed 
hope,  envenomed  by  a  long  and  unsparing  inter- 
change of  mjuries  and  insults,  was  never  able  to 
extmguish.     It  was  no  secret  to  him  how  angrily 
the  Pnnce  chafed  at  the  poUtical  ascendancy  of 
Mazarm,  and  he  had  artfully  fed  this  impatient 
humour  by  opening  before  Conde^s  ambition  the 
prospect  of  unbounded  sway  during  the  minority 
of  the  Kmg,  if  he  would  rid  the  kingdom  of  the 
low-born  foreigner  who  monopohsed  the  Regent's 
favour.       With   unscrupulous    art,    he    secretly 
fomented  the  pubHc  hatred  and  distrust  of  the 
Govermnent.     Every  day  new  rumours  of  hostHe 
projects  on  the  part  of  the  Regent,  some  of  them 
ot  the  wildest  extravagance,  but  all  greedily  de- 
vom-ed  by  popular  credulity  and  suspicion,  and 
aU  catching  some  colour  of  probabihty  from  the 
advance  of  troops  towards  the  capital,  provoked 
formidable  tumults.   On  one  occasion  the  Parisians 
were  thrown  into  a  paroxysm  of  terror  by  a  report 
that  the  Queen   of  'Sweden  had  arrived  with  an 
army  of  Amazons  to  avenge  her  sister  sovereign. 
Eveiy  day  ribald   Mazarinades,   and   caricatures 
equaUy  witty   and  coarse,  depicting  the  amorous 
relations  of  Anne  of    Austria  and  her  minister 
were    flung     upon     the    seething    capital    from' 


227 

secret  presses,  to  feed  its  rancorous  and 
prurient  humour.  When  the  Regent  went  to 
visit  a  favourite  convent  or  church,  insulting 
verses,  loudly  chaunted  by  dishevelled  de- 
mireps, assailed  her  ears.  Her  hours  of  re- 
pose were  disturbed  by  continual  alarms. 
Mazarin  no  longer  dared  to  stir  from  the  Palace. 
Distracted  by  apprehensions,  he  was  incapable  of 
giving  his  mistress  advice,  except  to  urge  her  de- 
parture from  a  scene  of  so  much  danger  and  dis- 
comfort. But  she  bided  her  time  with  the 
patience  of  deep  hatred.  When  she  considered 
her  preparations  sufficiently  advanced,  she  sent 
the  young  King  and  the  Cardinal  quietly  from  the 
city,  covered  their  retreat  with  admirable  coolness, 
and  then  retired  in  open  day  to  Ruel,  the  country 
house  of  the  Duchess  of  Aiguillono.  There  she 
summoned  Conde  to  ioin  her. 

The  first  step  Anne  of  Austria  took,  when  beyond 
the  reach  of  popular  sedition,  left  the  magistrates 
without  a  doubt  regarding  the  nature  of  her  in- 
tentions. This  was  to  order  the  arrest  of  Chavigny 
and  Chateauneuf .  Both  of  these  statesmen,  and 
especially  Chavigny,  were  known  to  cultivate 
intimate  relations  with  prominent  members  of 
the  Parliament,  and  were  objects  of  Mazarin's 
jealous  aversion.  Chavigny  was  shut  up  in  the 
Castle  of  Yincennes,  of  which  he  had  long  been 


•  I 


228 

governor;    Chateauneuf,   less   obnoxious  to  the 
Regent,  was  exiled  to   the  province  of    Berri. 
Ihe    Parhament,   restrained    by  Mol^  in  obser- 
Tance  of    the  pledge   that   had  been   given   to 
Orleans,    and    renewed    to    the    Regent     when 
Bronssel  was  set  at  liberty,  had  for  some  weeks 
torbome  discussion  upon  the  disputed  prerogative 
of  arbitrary  arrest,  with  a  tacit  understanding  of 
corresponding   forbearance   on   the  part   of   the 
Government.     But  the  arrest  of   Chavigny  and 
Chateauneuf,  universally  attributed  to  the  per- 
fidious  counsels    of  the    Cardinal,   produced   an 
explosion  of  rage  in  the  Palace  of  Justice  which 
swept  away  every  tendency  to  moderation.     The 
High   Court   returned   the   blow   by  passing    a 
resolution  to  deliberate  on  its  decree  passed  in 
1622,  after  the  murder  of  Concini,  which  forbade 
foreigners  to  accept   office  in  France  upon  pain 
of  death.     It  dispatched  the  First  President,  at 
the  head  of  a  deputation,  to  Ruel,  to  request  the 
Regent  to  return  to  Paris  with  the  Kincr    and 
either  to  set  the  prisoners  free  or  bring  them  to 
trial.     The  deputation  was  also  commissioned  to 
mvite  the  Princes  of  the  Blood  to  attend  a  sitting 
of  the  Chamber,  at  which  the  thorny  question  of 
arbitrary  imprisonment  was  to  be  discussed. 

The  envoys  were  received  by  Anne  of  Austria 
at  a  public  audience.     Conde  had  arrived  at  Ruel  • 


J 


229 


had  been  welcomed  with  joyful  pride  by  the 
Queen,  with  humble  deference  by  the  Cardinal,  as 
the  saviour  of  the  Monarchy;  and  had  renewed 
his  professions  of  devoted  loyalty.  Orleans  was 
seemingly  full  of  zeal  in  her  cause.  Supported  by 
the  chiefs  of  the  House  of  Bourbon  she  laughed 
the  demands  of  the  magistrates  to  scorn.  The 
Princes  also  rejected  their  summons  with  menaces 
and  disdain.  Hopeless  of  a  pacific  solution,  the 
deputation  returned  to  Paris  to  assist  in  taking 
measures  for  the  defence  of  the  city. 

But  the  somewhat  extravagant  manifestation  of 
loyalty  by  Orleans  and  Conde,  which  had  driven 
the  magistrates  to  despair,  cloaked  much  secret 
hesitation,  and  an  under-current  of  private 
intrigue.  The  representations  of  De  Retz  had 
borne  fruit  in  the  Prince's  mind;  and  the  im- 
pressions of  former  conferences  were  deepened  in 
a  stolen  visit,  which  he  now  paid  the  Coadjutor  at 
Notre  Dame.  Although  from  principle  a  firm 
supporter  of  the  throne,  to  which  he  stood  in 
near  succession ;  and  although  regarding  the 
political  pretensions  of  councillors  of  Parliament, 
and  the  factious  violence  of  the  Parisian  rabble 
with  as  much  amazement,  anger,  and  con- 
tempt as  Anne  of  Austria  herself,  it  was  neither 
his  interest  nor  his  wish  to  establish  the  foreign 
favourite  in  the  seat  of  Richelieu.    The  part  which 


, 


.(.      ■»„■  -^ ^z- 


111  lilt  iWtiiii  ■  ■r'"^"^—-^-^-— - '^■"^ 


1. 


230 

Anne  designed  for  him,  that  of  executing   the 
pohcy  shaped  in  the  brain  of  her  able  minister, 
presented  to  his  mind  in  every  odious  and  humiU-' 
ating  aspect  by  the  taunts  of  the  keen-witted 
Parisians,  revolted  his  pride.      His  famUy  ex- 
perience taught  Mm  to  appreciate  the  suggestion 
of  De  Retz,  that  the  recognition  of  the  principle 
of  individual  liberty,  which  the  Parliament  de- 
manded, might  hereafter  prove  a  safeguard  for 
himself.      When,  therefore,  the  Regent,  at  the 
next   sitting    of  the   Council  of    State,  having 
expatiated  with  acrimony  on  the  rebelhous  spirit 
of  the  capital,  confidently  appealed  to  Conde  to 
reduce  it  to  submission,  to  her  intense  astonish- 
ment and  mortification,   instead  of  returning  a 
ready  assent,    he    started  difficulties,   spoke  of 
concihation,  and  ended  by  offering  himself  as  a 
mediator  between  the  Crown  and  the  Parliament 
Orieans,  greatly  relieved  by  this  unexpected  tm-n 
of  affairs,  promptly  gave  his  voice  for  peace.     No 
othermember  venturing  to  advocate  a  policy  which 
seemed  too  bold  for  the  fiery  Prince,   Anno  of 
Austria  broke  up  the'  meeting  in   silent   indig- 
nation. 

V 

A  resort  to  the  sword  for  the  purpose  of  cutting 
the  political  knot  being  now  out  of  the  question 
Orleans  and  Cond^  were  authorised  as  representa ' 
tives  of  the  King  to  discuss  tenns  of  accommoda^ 


i 


231 


tion  with  the  Presidents  Mole  and  De  Mesmes, 
the  delegates  of  the  Parliament.  The  Presidents 
again  submitted  for  acceptance  the  articles  passed 
by  the  United  Chambers  in  the  Hall  of  St.  Louis. 
Those  confering  on  the  High  Court  a  partial 
control  over  the  finances  and  freedom  of  debate, 
already  allowed  in  a  maimed  form  by  the  Regent, 
were  admitted  without  much  difficulty.  But 
upon  the  article  securing  to  every  Frenchman 
the  right  of  being  interrogated  by  his  legal 
judges  within  twenty-four  hours  after  his  arrest, 
she  was  as  unyielding  as  ever.  Though  rendered 
almost  powerless  by  the  desertion  of  the  Lieutenant- 
General  and  the  other  Princes  of  the  Blood,  she 
fought  the  battle  of  the  prerogative  single-handed, 
with  stubborn  resolution.  Mazarin,  however,  see- 
ing in  the  ebullitions  of  arrogant  temper  which 
continually  troubled  Conde^s  intercourse  with  the 
Parliamentary  delegates,  the  presage  of  a  speedy 
change  in  his  policy,  excited  all  his  influence  to 
induce  his  mistress  to  temporise.  He  soothed  her 
scruples  with  assurances  that  a  short  experience 
of  the  insolence  of  the  Parisian  demagogues  would 
drive  the  imperious  Prince  into  the  extremity  of 
antagonism  to  the  popular  cause ;  that,  even  at 
the  worst,  the  King,  on  attaining  his  majority, 
would  not  be  bound  by  the  acts  of  the  Regency. 
Slowly  yielding  to  the  arguments  of  her  far-seeing 


232 

minister,  Anne  of  Austria  offered  to  concede  im- 
munity from  arbitrary  imprisonment  to  the 
magistrates,  reserving  the  irresponsible  dominion 
of  the  Crown  over  the  princes  and  nobles.  But 
Mole  and  De  Mesmes,  worthy  champions  of  a 
beneficent  principle,  would  not  consent  that  any 
Frenchman,  however  high,  or  however  mean, 
should  be  excepted  from  its  protection. 

On  the  24th  of  October,  1648,  all  the  articles 
passed  in  the  Hall  of  St.  Louis,  embodied  in  a 
Declaration  drawn  up   by  Mol6,  were  accepted 
without  reserve  by  the  Regent,  after  one  of  those 
ternble  mental  conflicts  which  rage  only  in  strong, 
passionate  natures,  and  ever  leave  beliind  them 
indelible   traces   of  their   fury.     This  celebrated 
Declaration  was  a  noble  charter  of  constitutional 
freedom,  throwing,  so  far  as  was  possible  in  the 
circumstances  of  that  particular  time,  over  the 
liberty  and  the  property  of  Frenchmen,  the  shield 
of  a  legal  guarantee;  a  noble  monument  to  the  en- 
lightened patriotism,  and  the  lofty  courage  of  the 
great  magistrates  who  framed  it.     On  the  same 
day    the    Treaty    of    Westphalia,  concluded    at 
Munster  by  securing  the  depression  of  the  House 
of  Austria,  and  the  independence  of  the  minor 
German  States,  elevated   France  to  the  leading 
place  in  Europe,  and  consecrated  the  triumph  of 
Richelieu's  foreign  policy.     It  was  a  day  memor-  • 


233 


able  in  the  history  of  France,  and  memorable  in 
the  life  of  Conde ;  which  should  have  linked  his 
name  in  imperishable  renown  with  the  freedom, 
as  well  as  with  the  greatness  of  his  country. 
Happy  would  it  have  been  for  his  fame  had  he 
continued  to  restrain  his  fiery  genius  to  the  paths 
of  national  glory  and  national  felicity.  Happy 
would  it  have  been  for  France  had  she  devoted 
but  a  small  part  of  the  energy  and  talent,  of  the 
blood  and  treasure,  squandered  in  efforts  to  ex- 
tend her  supremacy  abroad,  to  preserve  and 
develop  constitutional  liberty  at  home. 

The  Treaty  of  Munster  and  the  Declaration  of 
October  24  were  celebrated  by  public  rejoicings, 
and  by  all  the  outward  signs  of  a  general  reconcilia- 
tion. The  King  and  the  Regent  returned  to  Paris. 
Chavigny  and  Chateauneuf  regained  their  liberty, 
and  the  Parliament  silently  receded  from  its 
menacing  attitude  towards  Cardinal  Mazarin. 
But  the  interval  of  partial  tranquillity  that  followed 
was  a  period  of  passive  hostility  rather  than  of 
peace.  Mortified  pride  and  baffled  vengeance 
consumed  the  heart  of  the  Regent.  She  made 
httle  secret  of  the  grief  and  abhorrence  with 
which  she  viewed  the  concessions  wrung  from 
her,  or  of  her  determination,  at  a  more  favourable 
juncture,  to  free  the  royal  authority  from  such 
ignominious  fetters.     The  unexpected  desertion 


234 
of    Conde    especiaUy   gaUed    her.      She   never 

at  Euel  had  nveted  for  ever  the  ascendancy  of 
Mazarm  over  her  n.ind  and  her  affections.  The 
W  td        t"!!""''  ^^  ''**^^  -P---  taught 

cWd  to  share  her  power  during  the  minority 
o  her  son.  Mazann  was  her  creature,  bou.d  to 
her  by  every  bond  of  gratitude  and  hope;  whose 
poht,cal  existence  was  inseparable  from  herl^ 

whose  marvellousabilityand  sustainingsympathies' 
were  absolutely  enlisted  in  her  service 

The  frank  co-operation  of  Conde,  however,  was 

bhng  her  md:gnatxon,  she  employed  all  her  art  to 
wm  him  from  his  connexion  with  the  popular  partv 
-d  continually  assailed  his  self-love' ^th/aS: 
2  tokens  of  regard  and  confidence.     The  Car- 
dnal  hstened  to  all  the   Prince's   wishes  with 
reverential  submission.     But  this  policy  of  com- 
plaisance soon  brought  Amie  of  Austria  into  angry 
collision  with  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  led  toLr 
-^eivrng  a  fortifying    proof    of    the  unpopu- 
lanty  of  her  Government. 

Conde^s  brother,  the  Prince  of  Conti,  a  youth 
of  stunted  growth,  physical  and  mental,  and  of  a 
timorous  nature,  had  shown  a  predilection  for  an 
ecclesiastical  career.     It  was  the  interest  of  the 


235 


head  of  the  family  to  encourage  this  desire ;  the 
august  dignities  and  the  rich  benefices  in  the 
Church  which  would  reward  the  piety  of  a 
Prince  of  the  Blood  being  treated,  under  the 
dispositions  of  their  father^s  will,  as  equivalent 
to  the  large  revenues  settled  on  the  younger  son, 
should  he  elect  to  remain  a  layman.  Conde, 
therefore,  asked  the  Regent  to  transfer  to  Conti 
the  nomination  for  a  CardinaPs  hat,  which  had 
long  been  promised  to  the  Abbe  la  Riviere,  the 
reigning  favourite  of  the  Lieutenant- General. 
Anne  of  Austria  complied  with  this  request  with- 
out hesitation,  and  offered  to  compensate  La 
Riviere  by  making  him  Archbishop  of  Rheims. 
But  the  aspiring  Abbe,  looking  upon  an  arch- 
bishopric as  a  splendid  exile,  scornfully  rejected 
the  proposal,  and  openly  reproached  Anne  with  in- 
gratitude for  his  exertions  in  keeping  his  master 
steady  to  her  cause.  Orleans,  goaded  on  by  his 
YTife  and  daughter,  hotly  espoused  his  favourite^s 
quarrel.  In  an  angry  interview  at  the  Palais 
Royal,  he  came  to  an  open  rupture  with  the  Re- 
gent ;  and  he  retired  from  Court.  Anne  of  Austria 
at  first  treated  his  ill-humour  with  indifference;  but 
no  sooner  had  the  news  of  the  quarrel  spread 
over  Paris  than  all  the  great  nobles,  and  all  the 
popular  leaders,  thronged  to  the  Luxembourg  to 
offer  their  support.   When  the  Lieutenant-General 


m 


^  I 


236 

appeared  in  the  streets,  the  people  crowded  round 
his  coach,  filled  the  air  with  acclamations,  and 
^      oudly  urged  him  to  seize  the  King  and  depose 
the    Eegent.      Consternation    filled    the    Palais 
Koyal.    The  Eegent  sent  her  incensed  brother-in- 
law  the  most  pressing  entreaties  for  a  reconcilia- 
tion which  he  curtly  rejected.     Cond^,  alone  of 
^e  Court,  was  in  a  state  of  supreme  satisfaction. 
He  doubled  the  guards  at  the  Palace,  and  de- 
nounced Orleans  and  La  Eiyiere  as  traitors.     In 
the  height   of  the  public  agitation,  the   Duke 
stricken  by  a  sudden  panic  at  his  own  popularity' 
and  at  the  display  of  military  force,  betook  him- 
self to  bed,  and  refused  to  hold  any  further  commu- 
nica^ionwith  Anne  of  Austria.    She,  in  her  alarm 
regarded  his  feigned  illness  as  a  pretence  to  cloak 
the  workings  of  a  formidable  conspiracy.     En- 
trenched in  the  Palais  Eoyal  or  the  Luxembom-^ 
each  jside  expected  the  attack  in  mortal  terror' 
This   ludicrous    situation   might    have   found    a 
tragical  issue  had  not  La  Eiyiere,  appalled  by  the 
danger  of  being  crushed  to  pieces  in  the  shock  of 
such  mighty  forces,  sought  a  private  interview 
with  the  trembling  Mazarin.     A  few  words   of 
explanation  led  to  an  arrangement.     A  seat  in  the 
Pnvy  Council,  and  the  renewed  promise  of  a  red 
hat  appeased  the  wrath  of  the  favourite.  Monsieur 
bemg  assured  that  the  peril  had  blown  over,  and 


237 

that  his  importance  was  sufficiently  vindicated, 
condescended  to  accept  the  Eegent's  explanations, 
and  restored  the  appearance  of  public  tranquillity 
by  again  attending  the  Court. 

The  undisguised  preference  of  the  Parisians  for 
his  cousin,  whom  he  despised,  and  their  want  of 
appreciation  of  his  own  services,  cooled  Conde's 
favourable  disposition  towards  the  Constitutional 
party.     As   Mazarin  had  predicted,  one  or  two 
visits   to   the   Palace   of   Justice   converted  this 
coldness  into  bitter  enmity.    The  suspicious  bear- 
ing of  the  Eegent,  and  the  arts  of  the  Coadjutor, 
kept  alive  a  general  feeling  of  uneasiness,  which 
found  expression  in  the  exaggerated  statements 
and  the  irritating  language  of  the  democrats  of 
the  Chambers.     Condi's  imperious  tone,  and  dis- 
dainful manner  in  repressing  the  factious  cavillings 
which  invaded  every  department  of  the  State,  and 
even  the  household  of  the  young  King,  in  search 
of  grievances,  often   fictitious  or  frivolous,  pro- 
voked defiant  and  insolent  retorts  from  some  of 
the  younger  magistrates,  which  lashed  him  into 
fury.     It  was  in  vain  that  De  Retz,  who  watched 
the  fluctuations  of  his  mind  with  anxiety,  repeated 
every  argument,  which,  by  convincing  his  judg- 
ment, or  stimulating  his  ambition,  might  pTiTtllt 
hi8  serving  the  interefU  of  Cardinal  M(utarin. 
Bred   up  in  dMp    TiOMfilion    for    royalty,  liia 


236 

appeared  in  the  streets,  the  people  crowded  round 
his  coach,  filled  the  air  with  acclamations,  and 
loudly  urged  him  to  seize  the  King  and  depose 
the    Regent.      Consternation    filled    the    Palais 
Royal.    The  Regent  sent  her  incensed  brother-in- 
law  the  most  pressing  entreaties  for  a  reconcilia- 
tion, which  he  curtly  rejected.     Cond^,  alone  of 
the  Court,  was  in  a  state  of  supreme  satisfaction. 
He  doubled  the  guards  at  the  Palace,  and  de- 
nounced Orleans  and  La  Riviere  as  traitors.     In 
the  height   of  the  public  agitation,  the   Duke, 
stricken  by  a  sudden  panic  at  his  own  popularity, 
and  at  the  display  of  military  force,  betook  him- 
self to  bed,  and  refused  to  hold  any  further  commu- 
nication with  Anne  of  Austria.    She,  in  her  alarm, 
regarded  his  feigned  illness  as  a  pretence  to  cloak 
the  workings  of  a  formidable  conspiracy.     En- 
trenched in  the  Palais  Royal  or  the  Luxembourg, 
each  .side  expected  the  attack  in  mortal  terror. 
This   ludicrous    situation   might    have   found    a 
tragical  issue  had  not  La  Riviere,  appalled  by  the 
danger  of  being  crushed  to  pieces  in  the  shock  of 
such  mighty  forces,  sought  a  private  interview 
with  the  trembling  Mazarin.      A  few  words   of 
explanation  led  to  an  arrangement.     A  seat  in  the 
Privy  Council,  and  the  renewed  promise  of  a  red 
hat  appeased  the  wrath  of  the  favourite.  Monsieur, 
being  Assured  that  the  peril  had  blown  over,  and 


237 

that  his  importance  was  sufficiently  vindicated, 
condescended  to  accept  the  Regent's  explanations, 
find  restored  the  appearance  of  public  tranquillity 
by  again  attending  the  Court. 

The  undisguised  preference  of  the  Parisians  for 
his  cousin,  whom  he  despised,  and  their  want  of 
appreciation  of  his  own  services,  cooled  Condi's 
favourable  disposition  towards  the  Constitutional 
party.     As   Mazarin  had  predicted,  one  or  two 
visits   to   the   Palace   of   Justice   converted  this 
coldness  into  bitter  enmity.    The  suspicious  bear- 
ing of  the  Regent,  and  the  arts  of  the  Coadjutor, 
kept  alive  a  general  feeling  of  uneasiness,  which 
found  expression  in  the  exaggerated  statements 
and  the  irritating  language  of  the  democrats  of 
the  Chambers.     Cond6's  imperious  tone,  and  dis- 
dainful manner  in  repressing  the  factious  cavillings 
which  invaded  every  department  of  the  State,  and 
even  the  household  of  the  young  Eang,  in  search 
of  grievances,  often   fictitious  or  frivolous,  pro- 
voked defiant  and  insolent  retorts  from  some  of 
the   younger  magistrates,  which  lashed  him  into 
fury.     It  was  in  vain  that  De  Retz,  who  watched, 
the  fluctuations  of  his  mind  with  anxiety,  repeated 
every  argument,  which,  by  convincing  his  judg- 
ment, or  stimulating  his  ambition,  might  prevent 
his  serving   the  interests   of   Cardinal  Mazarin. 
Bred   up  in  deep    veneration    for    royalty,  his 


238 

haughty   soul    could    not    brook    alliance    with 
the  low-bom  demagogues  who  had  bearded  him 
m  the  Parliament. j^-Mj  name/'  he  said,  -is 
Loms  of  Bourbon,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  shake  the 
Crown/'     Had  he  consulted  sound  pohcy,  and  his 
own  dignity,  he  would  have  curbed  his  indigna- 
tion,  and  co-operated  with  the  patriotic  Mole  in 
upholding  the   Declaration    of    October    24,   in 
opposing  alike   the    excesses   of  faction  and  of 
authority.     With  his  position  and  prestige  this 
course  was  not  merely  feasible,  it  was  the  course 
most  consonant  with  his  own  honour  and  advantage. 
But  entrusted  from  his  earhest  youth  with  the 
supreme  conduct  of  the  greatest  undertakings ; 
having  from  the  very  first  bound  fortune  to  his 
chariot-wheels ;  being  accustomed  to  see  his  wiU 
a  law  to  all  around  him,  he  had  never  acquired 
the  habits  of  self-control  and  reflection,  or  the 
steadiness  of  purpose  which  come  from  wrestling 
with  difficulties.     His  glorious  intellect  and  his 
clear  judgment  were  the  sport  of  unruly  passions, 
often  as  short  lived  as  they  were  violent^^ 
friend  Marshal  Grammont,  a  staunch  adh'^ek^of 
the  Court,  represented  to  him,  while  stiU  swayed 
by  mtemperate  anger  at  the  language  of  a  few 
obscure  Councillors,  that   by  a^^complishing  the 
designs  of  the  Eegent,  he  would  command  her 
gratitude  for  ever,  and  place  himself  in  a  position^ 


239 

Cto  become  the  arbiter  of  the  Minister's  fate, 
i^urried  along  by  wayward  and  unreasoning 
humours,  he  not  only  broke  off  his  relations  with 
the  Coadjutor,  but  hastened  to  abet  Anne  of 
Austria  with  all  the  ardour  of  selfish  ambition  and 
revenge,  in  crushing  the  Parliament  and  tearing 
up  the  Charter  so  recently  extorted  through  his 
connivanceA 

The  sanction  of  the  Lieutenant  General  of  the 
realm  was  necessary  for  the  use  of  military  force 
against  the  Capital.     The  mind  of  Orleans  was 
still  estranged  from  the  Regent  by  the  irritation  of 
scarcely-healed  grievances ;  his  pride  was  swollen 
by  his  unbounded  popularity  with  the  citizens ; 
and  the  tortures  of  a  severe  attact  of  gout  ren- 
dered him  unusually  testy.     But  Anne  of  Austria, 
in  assiduous  visits  to  his  sick  couch,  exerted  the 
feminine  blandishments  and  the  force  of  will  which 
had  so  long  held  him  in  control.     The  treacherous 
Duke,  after  a  few  uneasy  mental  pangs,  not  only 
betrayed  the  confiding  affection   of  his  faithful 
Parisians,  but  entered  cordially  and  even  eagerly 
into  the  Regent's  project  to  chastise  them  with 
famine  and  the  sword.     Conde  proposed,  in  secret 
council  at  the  Palais  Royal,  that  the  Court  should 
retire  to  the  Arsenal,  which  adjoined  the  Bastille, 
and  thence  issue  a  decree  of   exile   against  the 
Parliament.     If  the  magistrates  offered  resistance. 


1 

i 


240 

lie  undertook  to  enter  the  city  at  the  head  of  his 
troops,  sweep  the  streets  with  his  artillery,  and 
clear  the  Palace  of  Justice  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet.  This  bold  plan  of  operations,  which 
promised  prompt  and  decisive  success  in  the 
hands  of  a  great  soldier,  was  warmly  approved 
by  the  Kegent.  But  Orleans  and  Mazarin  were 
terrified  at  the  risks  of  discomfiture  in  a  street 
fight.  Anne  of  Austria,  reluctantly  yielding  to 
their  timid  remonstrances,  agreed  to  resort  to 
the  slower,  though,  in  reaUty,  more  hazardous, 
measure  of  a  blockade. 

In  the  meantime  De  Retz  had  not  been  idle. 
The  alienation  of  Conde,  and  the  embarrassed 
demeanour  of  Monsieur  warned  him  of  the  danger 
that  was  brewing.  Having  no  faith  in  the  ability 
of  the  Parliament  to  resist  the  Government,  sup- 
ported by  the  greatest  general  of  the  age  and  the 
soldiers  of  Lens,  he  had  succeeded  in  banding 
together  the  chiefs  of  the  great  aristocratic  houses 
in  a  secret  league ;  and  he  treated  for  assistance 
with  the  Archduke  Leopold  at  Brussels,  through 
Madame  de  Chevreuse.  The  Princes  of  Vendome, 
the  Dukes  of  Bouillon,  Elboeuf ,  and  Longueville, 
the  Prince  of  MarsHlac,  with  their  aUies  and 
dependents  in  the  provinces,  were  prepared  by 
his  address  to  draw  their  swords  for  the  Parlia- 
ment.    He  and  they  were  guided  by  animosity 


241 


-and  interest  to  a  common  goal,  the  destruction  of 
Cardinal  Mazarin,  and  perhaps  the  deposition  of 
the  Regent,  by  means  of  an  armed  confederacy, 
ostensibly  organised  for  the  defence  of  the  Decla- 
ration of  the  24th  of  October.     But  in  order  to 
secure  the  stability  and  the  harmonious  action  of 
the  league  against  the  jealous  rivalries  of  so  many 
proud  magnates,  it  was  necessary  to  place  at  its 
head  a   Prince    of  the   Blood.       Cond^,    whose 
adhesion  to  it  was  a  cardinal  point  in  his  policy, 
had  broken  through   his   meshes.     Orleans   had 
also  abandoned  the  Parliament.     It  seemed  more 
than  doubtful  whether  the  timid  Conti  could  be 
induced  to   venture  into  open  opposition  to  his 
fiery  brother.  - 

Revolving  this  difficulty  in  his  mind,  De  Retz 
went  one  day  to  visit  Madame  de  Longueville. 
The  beautiful  and  accomplished  Duchess  was  at 
that  time  on  very  bad  terms  with  the  Regent,  and 
with  her  elder  brother.  She  was  devoured  by  an 
ambitious  fancy  to  shine  in  the  sphere  of  politics. 
But,  although  brilliant  and  cultivated,  she  was 
not  formed  of  sufficiently  stem  stuff  for  the  rdle 
she  coveted.  Plastic  under  the  influence  of  love, 
as  clay  in  the  hands  of  the  potter,  her  opinions 
were  swayed  by  her  affections,  and  whoever  en- 
grossed her  heart  also  governed  her  mind,  and 
directed  the  current  of  her  ideas  in  the  channel  of 


VOL.  I. 


M 


242 

his  own  interests.     With  the  Eegent,  she  had 
never  been  a  favourite.     Anne  of  Austria  found 
the  lauguishing  airs  of  the  spoUed  beauty,  and 
hel  xsprit  of  the  Hotel  Rambouillet  insufferable, 
and  delighted  in  inflicting  on  her  petty  mortifica- 
lions.     Conde  was  said  to  have  never  forgiven 
her  for  revealing  to  his  father  the  fooHsh  project 
he  had  formed  of  marrying  MademoiseUe  Vigean. 
His  conduct  towards  her  at  this  period  was  singu- 
larly harsh  and  unf  eeUng.  He  treated  her  political 
pretensions  with  pitiless  ridicule,   and  publicly 
inveighed,  in  unmeasured  terms,  against  her  gal- 
lantries, counselling  her  husband  to  shut  her  up 
for    Hfe    in    one    of    his    castles.     Madame   de 
Longueville  therefore  lived  retired  from  the  Court 
in  sullen  discontent.     Her  younger  brother  Conti 
worshipped  her  with  ahnost  idolatrous  love.    Her 
husband,  though  not  in  the  most  intimate  rela- 
tions with  her,  was  blessed  with  an  indulgent  dis- 
position which  rendered  him  incapable  of  treating 
her  with  severity.     Already  dissatisfied  with  the 
Government  for  refusing  him  the  custody  of  the 
fortresses  of  Havre  and  Pont  de  1' Arche  in  Nor- 
mandy, the  sarcasms  of  the  Prince,  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  his  wife's  infidehty,  only  served  to  wound 
his  pride,  and  embitter  his  resentment.     It  needed 
but  a  few  artful  hints,  thrown  out  without  ap- 
parent purpose  by  the  Coadjutor,  to  conjure  up 


243 

before  Madame  de  Longueville^s  imagination  a 
dazzling  vision  of  triumphant  ambition  and  grati- 
fied vengeance.  The  prospect  that  arose  before 
her  of  dividing  the  allegiance  of  France  with  Anne 
of  Austria  as  Queen  of  the  Fronde,  of  at  once 
baffling  her  imperious  brother,  and  wounding  him 
where  his  pride  was  most  exquisitely  sensitive,  by 
arraying  against  him  the  members  of  his  own 
family  in  league  with  the  demagogues  of  the 
capital,  filled  her  with  joy  which  no  words  could 
paint.  She  embraced  the  subtle  prelate's  schemes 
with  rapture,  engaged  to  remain  behind  in  Paris, 
in  the  expected  contingency  of  the  Regent's  de- 
parture, and  pledged  herself  for  the  adhesion  of 
Conti,  of  her  husband,  and  of  the  Prince  of  Mar- 
sillac,  to  the  cause  of  the  Parliament. 

De  Retz  found  an  equally  enthusiastic  and  still 
more  energetic  ally  in  the  Duchess  of  Bouillon. 
For  the  rare  combination  of  beauty,  bewitching 
grace,  winning  manners,  and  lively  talents,  this 
charming  conspirator  had  few  rivals ;  and  she  was 
distinguished  besides  by  the  unusual  characteristic 
of  unblemished  fidelity  to  her  husband.  Her  ani- 
mosity towards  Anne  of  Austria  was  intense,  in 
consequence  of  the  Regent  having  betrayed  to 
Cardinal  Richelieu  the  secret  of  the  conspiracy  of 
Cinq-Mars,  which  cost  Bouillon  his  principality  of 
Sedan,  and  had  nearly  cost  him  his  head.     By 

M  2 


!| 


244 

birtli  a  subject  of   Spain,  Madame  de  BouiUon 
maintained  close    relations  with    the   Court    of 
Brussels,  of  which    she    had    been  vne  of    the 
brightest   ornaments.    Brave,   ardent,   self-sacri- 
ficing, and  full  of  resources,  she  schemed,  plotted 
and  even  coquetted  with   untiring    energy,    in 
concert  with  her  lord,  for  the  purpose  of  obtain- 
ing the  satisfaction  of  his  claims.     She  now  es- 
tablished an  intimate  political  liason  withDe  Retz, 
who,  while  confessing  in  his  memoirs  the  power 
of  her  fascinations,  bears  unimpeachable  testimony 
to  her  singular  virtue. 

It  was  not  in  the  nature  either  of  Anne  of  Aus- 
tria or  of  Cond6  to  sleep  upon  a  bold  resolution  de- 
liberately adopted.    They  acted  with  a  promptitude 
and   secrecy  which    disconcerted  the  Coadjutor, 
and  weU-nigh  frustrated  all  his  plans.     The  mea- 
sures resolved  upon  at  the  Palais  Eoyal  were  veiled 
with  profound    dissimulation.     Orleans,  carefully 
guarded  by  La  Riviere,  now  in  close  alliance  with 
Mazarin,  did  not  drop  a  hint  of  what  was  coming 
even    to  his  wife.      Cond6  was  equally  reticent 
with  his   idolised   mother,  whose  existence  was 
bound  up  in  his.      At  the  customary  pubUc  re- 
ceptions on  New  Year's  Day,  1649,  the  gracious 
demeanour  of  the  Regent  was  the  subject  of  general 
comment  and  congratulation  among  the  members 
of  the   High   Court.      On    the  5th  of  January 


245 

Marshal  Grammont  entertained  the  Court.     Anne 
of  Austria  passed  the  evening  at  the  Palais  Royal 
in     pleasant   conversation   with    her  household. 
Vague  rumours,  that  had  somehow  got  afloat,  of 
her  intended  flight  from  the  Capital,  appearing  to 
disquiet  some  of  her  ladies,  she  made  them  a  sub- 
ject of  mirth,  mocking,  in  merry  humour,  at  the 
absurd  fears  of  the  Parisians.     At  her  usual  hour, 
dismissing  her  retinue,  she  retired  to  bed.    When 
all  was   quiet,  after  midnight,   she   rose   again, 
roused   up   a  few    confidential    attendants,   and 
ordered  the  King  and  his  brother  to  be  dressed. 
Leading  her  sons  by  the  hand,  she  left  the  palace 
by  a  secret  staircase,  traversed  the  gardens,  and 
entering  a  coach  that  waited  at  a  private  entrance, 
drove  through  the  city  gates,  and  halted  at  a  short 
distance  without   the  walls.      In  the   meantime 
Orleans,  Conde,  and  Mazarin  quitted  the  Hotel  de 
Grammont   together  on  foot.     The  Cardinal  re- 
paired without  delay  to  join  his  mistress.    Orleans, 
proceeding  to  the  Luxembourg,  awoke  his  wife, 
who  received  his    commands   to   prepare  for  a 
journey  in  a  very  refractory  spirit.     Cond6  went 
to  his  family  hotel,  called  up  his  mother  and  wife, 
and  dragged  the  reluctant  Conti  out  of  bed.     By 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning  all  the  Royal  family, 
with  the  exception  of  Madame  de  Longueville, 
who,  pleading  pregnancy,  had  refused  to  stir. 


-ms^^fmmmsr^m 


i»v.i     "Kil  W**l" 


246 

were  assembled  together,  in  no  very  sociable 
temper,  in  the  Regent's  capacious  coach,  on  their 
way  to  St.  Germain. 

The  weather  was  bitterly  cold.     In  the  narrow 
domestic   economy    of  that    time,   the   King   of 
France,  though  master  of  many  spacious  palaces, 
seems  to  have  possessed  only  one  complete  set  of 
furniture.      When  he  changed  his  residence,  that 
which  ho  left  was  dismantled  and  deserted ;  and 
the  Royal  moveables  accompanied  the  Court  in 
huge  baggage-waggons.     No  preparations  having 
been  made  at  the  Chateau  of  St.  Germain,  for  fear 
of  exciting  suspicion,  the  Royal  party  found  it  desti- 
tute of  food,  of  fuel,  and  of  the  common  necessaries 
of  habitation.     The  resources  of  the  little  neigh- 
bouring village  were  inadequate  to  supply  their 
simplest  wants.     A  few  mattresses,  one  of  which 
Orleans   appropriated   to    himself,    and   a    small 
quantity   of   the    humblest   faro   were   procured 
with   difficulty.      Bread   rose   to    famine  prices. 
Straw  was  sold  at  a  fabulous  rate.     The  wood, 
hastily  cut  in  the  forest,  was  green,  and  would 
not  bum.      During  the  first  twenty-four  hours 
after  their  arrival  the  majority  of  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  so  hastily  torn  from  their  luxurious 
quarters  in  Paris,  fasted,  shivered,  and  watched 
in  the  damp  and  desolate  rooms. 

Anne  of  Austria,  before   quitting    the   Palais 


247 

Royal,  had  addressed  letters  to  the  great  public 
bodies  of  the  capital  and  the  leading  members  of 
the  nobility,  charging  the  Parliament  with  trea- 
sonable designs  against  the  King's  person.     The 
nobles  were  ordered  instantly  to  repair  to   St. 
Germain,  and  it  was  announced  that  the  Royal 
Armies  were  marching  on  the  capital.     The  news 
spread  like  wildfire,  throwing  the  populace  into  a 
paroxysm  of  rage  and  terror.     Armed  mobs  seized 
the  city  gates,  took  possession  of  the  waggons  that 
were  bearing  away  the  King's  effects,  and  would 
have  pillaged   the   Palais  Royal  and   the  Palais 
Mazarin   had    not   the    Parliament  placed  these 
buildings  under  the  charge  of  its  own  officers. 
The  sight  of  crowds  of  panic-striken  courtiers, 
choking  up  all  the  avenues  of  exit  in  their  hurry  to 
escape  to  St.  Germain,  added  to  the  popular  exas- 
peration.     But  the  majority  of  the  magistrates 
and  substantial  citizens  were  chilled  with  dismay. 
The    desertion   of    Orleans,    who   had   promised 
to  defend   them   against  the    evil    practices    of 
"Madame  Anne,"  particularly   depressed  them. 
Yet  such  was  the  affection  which  the  false  Duke 
inspired,  that  while  a  Decree  of  the  High  Court 
forbade  the  removal  of  a  single  article  from  the 
Royal  palaces  or  the   Hotel  Mazarin,   carriages 
bearing  the  arms  of  Monsieur  were  allowed  pas- 
sage through  the  gates  without  question. 


mmmm 


248 


The  desponding  fears  that  weighed  down  the 
Parisian  middle  class  filled  De  Retz  with  appre- 
hension .  All  the  confederate  nobles,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  Duke  of  Bouillon,  were  still  in  the  pro- 
vinces, busy  with  their  preparations  for  the  coming 
struggle.  Bouillon  was  proud,  wary,  and  almost 
morbidly  jealous  of  his  shadowy  dignity  of 
sovereign  prince.  Suspecting  trickery,  and  dis- 
daining the  companionship  of  greasy  citizens,  he 
listened  to  the  explanations  of  the  Coadjutor  in 
very  bad  humour,  refused  to  commit  himself  by 
any  overt  act  in  the  absence  of  a  Prince  of  the 
Blood,  and  even  showed  some  disposition  to  repair 
to  Court.  Madame  de  Longueville  received  the 
disheartened  prelate  in  tears.  She  had  just 
been  apprised  that  her  irresolute  husband,, 
on  his  way  up  from  Normandy  to  join  her,  had 
stopped  at  St.  Germain.  It  was  agreed  that  ^ she 
should  send  the  Marquis  of  Noirmoutier  with 
letters  to  him  and  the  Prince  of  Conti.  De  Retz. 
seeing  in  the  evident  desire  for  an  accommodation 
that  pervaded  the  minds  of  the  magistrates,  and 
in  the  absence  of  his  high-bom  allies,  the  possible 
collapse  of  his  schemes,  began  to  think  of  his  own 
safety.  He  had  received  orders  to  attend  the 
Court,  and  he  now  thought  it  prudent  to  feign 
obedience.  Setting  out  with  great  pomp  from 
Notre  Dame,  he  proceeded  slowly  through  the  y 


249 


most  crowded  streets,  and,  with  tears  rolling  down 
his  dejected  face,  showered  his  benedictions  on 
the  crowds  who  were  attracted  by  his  equipage. 
The  people  clamoured,  and  stopped  his  horses ; 
but  he  besought  them,  in  tones  of  anguish,  not 
to  expose  themselves  to  the  wrath  of  incensed 
majesty  by  arresting  his  journey,  and  detaining 
him  to  share  their  perils.  His  words  had  the 
desired  effect.  The  postillions  were  dragged 
from  their  seats,  the  horses  were  unharnessed, 
and  De  Retz,  elevated  on  a  dray,  was  escorted 
back  in  triumph  to  his  palace  by  a  body-guard  of 
shrill-tongued  viragoes,  while  a  band  of  sister 
furies  shrieked  and  danced  around  the  burning 
fragments  of  his  coach.  On  reaching  home,  he 
addressed  a  submissive  letter  to  the  Regent,  de- 
ploring his  inability  to  obey  her  commands  .J 

While  the  Chambers  still  hesitated  between  sub- 
mission and  defiance,  a  letter  arrived  in  the  King's 
name,  exiling  the  Parliament  to  Montargis.  The 
High  Court,  having  been  forewarned  of  its  contents, 
resolved  that  out  of  respect  for  the  Royal  Autho- 
rity the  mandate  should  be  deposited,  unopened, 
in  their  Registry;  and  despatched  Omer  Talon 
and  the  other  law  officers  of  the  Crown  to  learn 
from  the  Queen  the  names  of  the  false  accusers, 
who  had  calumniated  her  loyal  companies.  The 
deputation  was  compelled  to  halt  before  it  reached 

M  5 


250 


St.  Germain ;  was  kept  waiting  for  several  hours 
of  an  inclement  night,  on  the  top  of  a  bleak  hill, 
exposed  to  a  violent  snow  storm ;  and  was  then 
sternly  denied  audience.  This  injurious  treatment 
of  their  envoys  showed  the  incensed  magistrates 
that  there  only  remained  to  them  disgraceful  sub- 
mission or  vigorous  resistance.  Casting  aside 
their  irresolution,  they  issued  a  decree  declaring 
Cardinal  Mazarin  a  public  enemy,  and  the  author 
of  all  the  disorders  of  the  realm,  and  denouncing 
against  him  the  penalties  of  outlawry  if  found 
within  the  kingdom  after  the  expiration  of  eight 
days. 

Having  lifted  up  the  gage  of  battle,  the  High 
Court  convoked  a  great  council  of  all  the  nota- 
bilities of  Paris  to  consider  measures  of  defence. 
The  meeting  was  attended  by  the  Duke  of  Mont- 
bazon.  Governor  of  the  City,  the  Provost  of  the 
Merchants,  and  every  person  eminent  in  his  public 
or  private  capacity,  with  the  exception  of  the 
Duke  of  Bouillon,  and  the  Military  Governor, 
Marshal  la  Mothe  Houdincourt,  who  declined  to 
declare  themselves,  unless  countenanced  by  a 
Prince  of  the  Koyal  Family. 

The  burgher  guard,  with  its  reserve  of  partially 
drilled  artizans,  numbered  about  twenty  thousand 
men.  But  the  prosperous  middle-aged  tradesmen, 
who   chiefly  composed  it,. not   being   physically 


I 


251 


M 


well  adapted  for  feats  of  active  warfare,  it  was 
decided  that  this  force  should  be  employed  in  the 
defence  of  the  gates  and  ramparts,  and  of  public 
order  ;  and  that  an  army  of  fourteen  thousand 
foot  and  five  thousand  horse,  of  more  mettlesome 
materials,  should  be  levied  for  offensive  operations. 
In  order  to  provide  funds  for  the  campaign,  the 
Parliament  issued  orders  to  the  collectors  of 
revenue  throughout  the  kingdom  to  pay  the  pro- 
ceeds of  the  taxes  into  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  It  also 
imposed  a  house-tax  on  the  Capital ;  every  mansion 
with  a  porte-cochere  being  assessed  at  one  hundred 
and  fifty  francs,  shops  and  the  meaner  habitations 
at  thirty  francs  each.  The  magistrates  contributed 
with  extraordinary  generosity,  and  the  Coadjutor 
undertook  to  equip  and  maintain  a  regiment  at 
his  own  expense. 

These  bold  proceedings  produced  a  signal  effect 
both  at  Paris  and  St.  Germain.  The  citizens 
were  roused  from  their  despondency  to  the 
highest  pitch  of  ardour.  The  Regent  was  wild 
with  anger;  but  Mazarines  spirit  quailed.  He 
had  no  real  friends  even  amongst  the  courtiers, 
who,  finding  that  the  hostile  decrees  launched 
against  him,  breathed  respectful  loyalty  to  the 
sovereign,  began  to  give  him  cold  looks,  and  to 
whisper  to  each  other,  that  his  was  the  malign 
influence  that  troubled  the  peace  of  the  realm. 
Many  of  the  nobles,  who,  although  secretly  dis- 


252 

affected,  had  gathered  around  the  Regent,  plucked 
up  courage  to  avow  their  true  sentiments.  The 
example  was  set  by  the  Duke  of  Elbocuf,  a  Prince 
of  the  house  of  Lorraine.  Quitting  the  Court  in  the 
open  day,  he  entered  Paris,  offered  himself  to  the 
Parliament  as  their  General,  and  was  welcomed 
with  acclamations. 

This  event  was  by  no  means  pleasing  to  De 
Retz.  He  now  felt  certain  of  the  speedy  arrival 
of  Conde  and  Longueville ;  and  the  aspiring  aims 
and  sudden  popularity  of  the  Lorraine  Prince 
threatened  to  mar  his  schemes.  He  spent  the 
day  in  spreading  abroad  sinister  reports  that 
Elboeuf  was  an  agent  of  the  Regent.  After  he 
had  retired  to  rest,  word  was  brought  to  him  that 
the  chiefs  he  so  impatiently  expected  were  vainly 
seeking  admittance  at  one  of  the  city  gates.  They 
had  galloped  off  from  St.  Germain  in  the  evening, 
but  the  burgher  guard,  ignorant  of  the  intrigues 
of  the  Coadjutor,  naturally  looked  upon  the  brother 
and  brother-in-law  of  Conde  as  enemies,  and  planted 
a  cannon  against  them.  The  rejected  leaders  passed 
many  hours  in  a  forlorn  condition,  exposed  to  the 
double  danger  of  being  blown  to  pieces  by  the  insur- 
gents, and  of  being  captured  by  a  detachment  of 
the  royal  troops.  At  length  De  Retz,  arriving 
with  old  Broussel,  with  great  difficulty  persuaded 
the  suspicious  citizens  to  give  them  entrance. 

It    was    now   four    o'clock    in   the    mornings 


253 


The  Coadjutor  carried  Conti  to  the  Palace  of 
Justice,  to  offer  his  services  to  the  Parliament. 
Conti's  rank  rendered  this  step  equivalent  to  a 
demand  of  the  supreme  military  command.  But 
the  timid  boy,  already  scared  by  the  responsibili- 
ties of  his  novel  position,  was  dismayed  by  a  chilling 
reception  from  the  magistrates.  The  First  Presi- 
dent had  just  prevailed  on  the  Chamber,  despite 
the  vehement  opposition  of  the  Coadjutor's 
friends,  to  elect  Elboeuf  General.  The  great 
magistrate  suspected  the  correspondence  of  De 
Retz  with  the  Archduke  Leopold.  He  entirely 
distrusted  the  support  of  the  feudal  magnates, 
whom  he  knew  from  experience  to  be  ever  ready 
to  sacrifice  the  public  interests  to  their  own. 
It  was  the  policy  of  the  Parliament  to  maintain  in 
its  integrity  the  authority  of  the  Crown  within  the 
limits  marked  out  by  the  Declaration  of  October; 
to  defend  it  from  the  assaults  of  discontented 
nobles  and  interested  agitators  in  league  with  the 
enemies  of  the  kingdom.  In  order  that  the  High 
Court  might  not  be  pushed  beyond  the  legitimate 
bounds  of  self-defence,  or  compromised  by  schemes 
abhorrent  to  its  principles,  it  was  of  the  utmost 
importance  that  its  General  should  be  a  servant 
loyally  obedient  to  its  wishes  j  not  a  master  who 
would  use  it  without  its  consent  for  the  promo- 
tion of  ulterior  ends.  Elboeuf,  in  open  antagonism 


P 


254 

with  De  Retz  and  the  feudal  party,  promised  to 
be  far  more  amenable  to  Parliamentary  control 
than  Conti,  who  was  their  puppet.  When,  there- 
fore, Elboeuf,  in  reply  to  his  rivaPs  challenge, 
boldly  declared  he  would  never  resign  the  dignity 
conferred  on  him,  he  was  greeted  with  loud  ap- 
plause, and  the  crest-fallen  Conti  retired  in  dis- 
comfiture. 

The  gravity  of  the  crisis  was  fully  recognised 
by  the  Coadjutor  and  his  allies.  None  of  the 
aristocratic  chiefs  would  consent  to  serve  under 
Elboeuf.  They  held  Council  in  the  Hotel  de 
Bouillon  to  concert  measures  for  compelling  the 
High  Court  to  rescind  its  appointment,  and  for 
cowing  the  obnoxious  General  into  submission. 
Bouillon,  roused  from  his  sullen  lethargy  by  the 
remonstrances  of  De  Retz,  consented  to  take  an 
active  part  in  the  proceedings. 

The  Parliament  assembled  at  an  early  hour  on 
the  following  morning,  the  elated  Elbccuf  sitting 
in  pride  of  place  by  the  side  of  the  First  Presi- 
dent. Conti  entered  alone,  and  quietly  took  his 
seat.  Shortly  afterwards  the  Duke  of  Longue- 
ville,  who  was  not  a  peer  of  France,  craved 
audience,  and  was  conducted  to  a  place.  In  a 
short  speech  he  placed  all  the  resources  of  his 
Government  of  Normandy  at  the  service  of  the 
Chamber,   and    announced    that    his    wife    and 


255 


children  were  about  to  take  up  their  abode  in 
the  Hotel  de  Ville  as  hostages  for  the  fidelity  of  the 
Prince  of  Conti  and  himself .  His  words  created 
an  extraordinary  sensation.  Before  the  agitation 
had  time  to  subside,  the  -Duke  of  Bouillon  slowly 
entered  the  Chamber,  leaning  on  the  shoulders  of 
two  gentlemen,  with  great  parade  of  gout.  In  a 
few  blunt  sentences,  he  declared  that  he  would 
joyfully  defend  the  cause  of  the  Parliament  under 
such  an  illustrious  prince  as  Conti.  His  speech 
called  up  Elboeuf  in  hot  assertion  of  his  rights. 
Accusation  and  retort  were  freely  bandied  about. 
In  the  midst  of  the  uproar.  Marshal  la  Mothe, 
Military  Governor  of  Paris,  arrived,  and  offered  to 
draw  his  sword  for  the  Parliament  under  the  banner 
of  a  Prince  of  the  House  of  Bourbon.  The  excite- 
ment was  now  so  great  that  Mole  requested  all 
the  contending  chiefs  to  withdraw,  until  the 
magistrates  had  deliberated  on  the  proposals  they 
had  just  heard. 

While  this  scene  was  being  enacted  in  the 
Palace  of  Justice,  the  Coadjutor  was  busy  unfold- 
ing the  second  part  of  the  sensational  drama  he 
had  so  skilfully  contrived.  Entering  the  coach  of 
Madame  de  Longueville,  which  had  conveyed  her 
husband  to  the  Chamber,  he  carried  its  fair  owner 
and  the  Duchess  of  Bouillon,  each  dressed  with 
studied  negligence  and  accompanied  by  her  chil- 


254 


255 


with  De  Retz  and  the  feudal  party,  promised  to 
be  far  more  amenable  to  Parliamentary  control 
than  Conti,  who  was  their  puppet.  When,  there- 
fore, Elboeuf,  in  reply  to  his  rivaFs  challenge, 
boldly  declared  he  would  never  resign  the  dignity 
conferred  on  him,  he  was  greeted  with  loud  ap- 
plause, and  the  crest-fallen  Conti  retired  in  dis- 
comfiture. 

The  gravity  of  the  crisis  was  fully  recognised 
by  the  Coadjutor  and  his  allies.  None  of  the 
aristocratic  chiefs  would  consent  to  serve  under 
Elboeuf.  They  held  Council  in  the  Hotel  de 
Bouillon  to  concert  measures  for  compelling  the 
High  Court  to  rescind  its  appointment,  and  for 
cowing  the  obnoxious  General  into  submission. 
Bouillon,  roused  from  his  sullen  lethargy  by  the 
remonstrances  of  De  Eetz,  consented  to  take  an 
active  part  in  the  proceedings. 

The  Parliament  assembled  at  an  early  hour  on 
the  following  morning,  the  elated  Elboeuf  sitting 
in  pride  of  place  by  the  side  of  the  First  Presi- 
dent. Conti  entered  alone,  and  quietly  took  his 
seat.  Shortly  afterwards  the  Duke  of  Longue- 
ville,  who  was  not  a  peer  of  France,  craved 
audience,  and  was  conducted  to  a  place.  In  a 
short  speech  he  placed  all  the  resources  of  his 
Government  of  Normandy  at  the  service  of  the 
Chamber,   and    announced    that    his    wife    and 


children  were  about  to  take  up  their  abode  in 
the  Hotel  de  Ville  as  hostages  for  the  fidelity  of  the 
Prince  of  Conti  and  himself .     His  words  created 
an  extraordinary  sensation.     Before  the  agitation 
had  time  to  subside,  the  -Duke  of  Bouillon  slowly 
entered  the  Chamber,  leaning  on  the  shoulders  of 
two  gentlemen,  with  great  parade  of  gout.     In  a 
few  blunt  sentences,  he  declared  that  he  would 
joyfully  defend  the  cause  of  the  Parliament  under 
such  an  illustrious  prince  as  Conti.     His  speech 
called  up  Elboeuf  in  hot  assertion  of  his  rights. 
Accusation  and  retort  were  freely  bandied  about. 
In  the  midst  of  the  uproar.  Marshal  la  Mothe, 
Military  Governor  of  Paris,  arrived,  and  offered  to 
draw  his  sword  for  the  Parliament  under  the  banner 
of  a  Prince  of  the  House  of  Bourbon.   The  excite- 
ment was  now  so  great  that  Mole  requested  all 
the   contending    chiefs    to  withdraw,   until   the 
magistrates  had  deliberated  on  the  proposals  they 
had  just  heard. 

While  this  scene  was  being  enacted  in  the 
Palace  of  Justice,  the  Coadjutor  was  busy  unfold- 
ing the  second  part  of  the  sensational  drama  he 
had  so  skilfully  contrived.  Entering  the  coach  of 
Madame  de  Longueville,  which  had  conveyed  her 
husband  to  the  Chamber,  he  carried  its  fair  owner 
and  the  Duchess  of  Bouillon,  each  dressed  with 
studied  negligence  and  accompanied  by  her  chil- 


4 


256 


dren,  to  the  Hotel  de  Yille,  and  presented  them  as 
voluntary  hostages  to  the  vast  multitude  that 
crowded  the  Place  de  Greve.  The  sight  of  two 
young  and  beautiful  Princesses,  holding  aloft  two 
beautiful  children,  and  irresistibly  attractive  in 
the  artful  disorder  of  their  attire,  surrendering 
themselves  as  pledges  for  the  good  faith  of  their 
husbands,  at  the  head-quarters  of  the  city,  took 
the  hearts  of  the  Parisians  by  storm.  The  men 
shouted  till  they  were  hoarse ;  the  women  wept 
for  joy,  and  the  popular  enthusiasm  soon  found 
an  echo  in  the  deliberations  at  the  Palace  of 
Justice.  The  majority  of  the  magistrates  re- 
pented of  their  engagements  with  Elbocuf .  The 
insinuations  sown  broadcast  by  the  Coadjutor,  and 
which  were  not  altogether  unfounded,  had  borne 
fruit,  and  seriously  damaged  the  reputation  of  the 
new  General.  He  himself,  daunted  by  the  powerful 
confederacy  so  suddenly  arrayed  against  him, 
lowered  his  tone  of  confident  self-assertion,  and 
evinced  a  disposition  to  compromise  his  claims. 
Conti,  though  imbecile,  deformed,  and  a  dwarf, 
was  a  Prince  of  the  JBlood,  whose  rank  gave  dignity 
and  strength  to  opposition.  It  was  clear  that  by 
rejecting  him  the  Parliament  would  forfeit  the 
assistance  of  the  territorial  magnates,  whose  mili- 
tary knowledge  and  provincial  influence  must  avail 
much  in  a  prolonged  struggle  against  the  Eegent, 


257 


and  would  provoke  dangerous  popular  tumults* 
The  perils  attending  his  election  were  compara- 
tively remote,  and  might  be  warded  off ;  the  perils 
attending  his  rejection  were  certain  and  immediate. 
These  considerations  more  than  counterbalanced 
the  arguments  of  the  First  President.  The  High 
Court,  after  long  deliberation,  passed  a  decree 
appointing  Conti  Commander-in-Chief;  Elboeuf, 
Bouillon,  and  Marshal  la  Mothe,  Generals ;  Beau- 
fort, Marsillac,  and  Normoutier,  Lieutenant- 
generals  of  the  armies  of  the  Parliament. 
Longueville  departed  for  Normandy,  to  raise 
troops,  leaving  his  wife,  to  her  intense  deHght, 
installed  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  ruling  with  undis- 
puted sway  as  Queen  of  the  Fronde. 

The  defection  of  Conti  and  Longueville  burst 
like  a  thunder-clap  on  Anne  of  Austria  and  the 
Cardinal.  It  threw  Conde  into  transports  of 
fury.  He  sought  to  relieve  his  feelings  by 
parading  a  miserable  hunchback,  sheathed  in 
gilded  armour,  before  the  whole  Court,  as  the  new 
Generalissimo  of  the  Fronde  ;  and,  by  strenuous 
efforts,  to  cut  off  the  supplies  of  the  capital,  and 
such  of  its  defenders  as  their  exemplary  prudence 
suffered  to  come  within  his  reach.  But  his  small 
army  of  fourteen  thousand  men  was  inadequate 
to  seal  up  all  the  avenues  of  a  populous  city. 
Until  the  expected  junction  of  the  army  of  Ger- 


258 


many,  under  Turenne,  he  could  do  no  more  than 
occupy  the  more  important  posts  in  the  vicinity  of 
Paris,  and  send  detachments  of  cavah*y  to  scour 
the  adjacent  country. 

The  amazement  that  seized  the  minds  of  the 
Regent  and  her  crafty  minister  at  the  powerful 
combination,  which  seemed  to  have  sprung  out  of 
the  earth  to  confront  them,  was  the  most  flatter- 
ing homage  to  the  creative  genius  of  De  Retz. 
His  bold  and  profound  scheming  had  proved  more 
than  a  match  for  the  wary  subtlety  of  his  rival. 
The  Cardinal  trembled  at  the  unforeseen  dangers 
which  had  risen  like  a  lion  in  his  path,  and  still 
more  at  others  more  terrible,  of  which  he  now 
discerned  the  advancing  shadows.  But  Anne  of 
Austria,  exasperated  to  a  greater  degree  than  ever 
against  her  ancient  friends,  the  Importants, 
breathed  only  vengeance.  A  royal  proclamation 
declared  the  princes  and  nobles  who  should  not 
immediately  retire  from  Paris  guilty  of  high 
treason.  Even  this,  however,  did  not  check  the 
epidemic  of  desertion  from  the  Court,  and  every 
day  saw  new  and  powerful  accessions  to  the  in- 
surgent  ranks. 

The  Generals  of  the  Parliament,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Conti,  whose  constitutional  infirmities 
unfitted  him  for  warfare,  and  Bouillon,  who  held 
the  dignity  in  contempt,  laboured  incessantly  in 


259 


drilling  and  organizing  the  city  levies.  The 
arrival  of  the  Duke  of  Beaufort  and  the  Prince  of 
Marsillac  infused  fresh  activity  into  the  mihtary 
preparations.  The  presence  of  the  former  noble- 
man was  especially  welcome  to  the  Coadjutor.  As 
he  says  himself,  he  wanted  a  ^^  phantom  to  hide 
behind  ^^  in  his  manipulation  of  the  Parisian 
populace ;  and  he  could  not  possibly  have  found 
any  one  more  suitable  for  his  purpose  than  a 
grandson  of  Henry  lY.,  whose  gallant  bearing 
and  familiar  use  of  their  idiom  made  him  the  idol 
of  the  lower  classes,  and  whose  vanity  and  slender 
capacity  made  him  a  pliant  tool.  Popularity, 
even  in  its  sweetest  moments,  has  its  penalties. 
The  career  of  the  Duke  was  well-nigh  brought  to 
a  premature  close,  on  the  day  of  his  return  to  the 
Capital,  by  the  too  vehement  caresses  of  the  ladies 
of  the  fish-markets. 

Notwithstanding  the  exertions  of  their  leaders, 
the  operations  of  the  Parliamentary  forces  were 
far  more  fruitful  of  laughter  than  of  glory  or 
advantage;  their  martial  enthusiasm  within  the 
walls  being  alloyed  with  a  lamentable  excess  of 
discretion  in  the  field.  The  first  enterprise  under- 
taken by  the  Generals  was  the  attack  of  the 
Bastille.  The  Governor,  being  unprovided  with 
the  means  of  defence,  intimated  his  intention  not 
to  offer  resistance ;  but  a  military  spectacle  was 


260 


arranged  for  the  encouragement  of  the  citizen 
troops.  A  few  cannons,  charged  with  powder, 
opened  fire  against  the  walls.  The  guns  of  the 
fortress  thundered  in  equally  harmless  defiance. 
The  Duchesses  of  Longueville  and  Bouillon, 
arrayed  in  habits  of  blue,  the  colour  of 
the  Fronde,  profusely  sprinkled  with  golden 
slings,  came  and  seated  themselves  on  chairs  in 
the  neighbouring  gardens  of  the  Arsenal.  Sur- 
rounded by  a  sling-spangled  body-guard  of  daring 
young  cavaliers,  they  exposed  themselves  freely  to 
danger,  within  range  of  the  hostile  ramparts,  and 
regaled  themselves  on  sweet-meats  with  cheerful 
composure.  When  the  garrison  had  made  a 
sufficiently  heroic  defence,  it  capitulated,  and 
marched  out  with  all  the  honours  of  war. 

A  few  days  after  this  notable  achievement  a 
large  body  of  the  citizens  saUied  forth  with  great 
bravery  of  equipment,  under  Marshal  la  Mothe, 
to  seize  St.  Denis.  At  their  approach,  two  hun- 
dred Swiss  Guards  advanced  from  the  village.  A 
panic  instantly  seized  the  Parisian  braves.  With- 
out firing  a  shot,  they  turned  and  fled  in  the 
wildest  confusion,  and  never  halted  till  they  found 
themselves  safe  within  the  city  gates.  They  were 
received  by  their  fellow  citizens  with  shouts  of 
derision.  Lampoons,  squibs,  caricatures,  cele- 
brated their  prowess.     The  exploit  of  the  regi- 


261 


ment  of  the  Coadjutor  and  titular  Archbishop  of 
Corinth,  which  had  borne  away  the  palm  in  the 
race  of  cowardice,  was  termed  by  the  irreverent 
Parisians   "the   first   of  the  Corinthians.'^     The 
public  amusement  was  heightened  by  the  explana- 
tion of  the  Generals,  who  announced  that  their 
troops  had  only  retired  out  of  profound  respect 
for  the  royal  flag.     This  laudable  sentiment  long 
remained  sufficiently  powerful  to  render  the  civic 
cohorts  proof  against  the  ridicule  of  their  friends. 
Every  day  one  or  other  of  the  chiefs  led  out  a 
strong  force  to  protect  the  convoys  of  provisions 
required  to  feed  the  Capital.     A  distant  glimpse 
of  a  few  of  Condi's  horsemen   usually  had  the 
effect  of  sending  back  the  doughty  champions  of 
liberty  in  breathless  terror  to  the  city  gates ;  and 
the  woeful  plight  of  the  burgher  exquisites  who 
had  gone  forth  bedizened  with  the  gaudiest  ex- 
travagance of  military  foppery,  bruised  by  falls  in 
the  muddy  ditches,  and  grievously  wounded  by 
the    brambles   that    had   impeded    their    flight, 
kindled    inextinguishable     mirth    amongst     the 
laughter -loving  populace.  Gaiety  reigned  supreme, 
and  pointed   its   shafts   with  impartial  freedom. 
One  day  at  a  crowded  meeting  a  dagger  was  seen 
sticking  from  the  pocket  of  De  Eetz.     "  Behold,^' 
exclaimed  the  Duke  of  Beaufort,  to  the  dehghted 
throng,  "the  breviary  of  our  Archbishop  V    The 


262 

cavalry  of  the  city,  raised  and  maintained  by  the 
tax  on  the  larger  houses,  was  called  the  Cavalry 
of  the    " portes   cocheres''  and    was    popularly 
described  as  being   ''More  horse  than   foot,  in 
order  the  better  to  run  away  from  the  enemy." 
Every  evening  the  Duchess  of  Longueville  held 
high  festival  in  the  Hotel  de  Yille.      The  superb 
building,  shining  forth  a  huge  mountain  of  light, 
was  thronged  by  all  who  were  distinguished  or 
notorious  in  the  capital.     Every  variety  of  the 
motley  Parisian  life  was  represented  there.     The 
flower  of  the  high  nobility,  redolent  of  the  delicate 
fragrance  of  the  Hotel  Rambouillet,  or  the  reeking 
odours  of  godless  saloons,  venerable  ecclesiastics, 
foul-tongued  scoffers,  dignified  presidents  of  Par- 
liament, vulgar   demagogues,  fastidious  prudes, 
flaunting  courtezans,  jostled  each  other  at  every 
Btep  in  the   overflowing    rooms.     The  ludicrous 
disasters  of  the  day  lent  a  keener  edge  to  wit,  and 
a  more  delicious  zest  to  enjoyment.     Music  and 
dancing  flung  around  their  voluptuous  spells,  and 
an  occasional  council  of  war,  at  which  the  Duchess 
presided,  attested  the  provident  cares  of  the  chiefs. 
The  square  outside,  packed  with  a  dense  multi- 
tude, rang  with  the  blare   of  trumpets,  sounded 
by  Conti's   orders,  to  breathe  martial  fury  into 
the   souls   of    the    citizens.      This  nightly   fan- 
farronacky  and  the  daily  exertion  of  conducting  a 


263 


foraging  expedition  to  one  of  the  city  gates,  and 
receiving  it  on  its  return,  comprised  the  services 
rendered  by  the  Prince  as  Commander-in-Chief. 
The  military  peals  were  varied  by  the  more .  con- 
genial strains  of  a  Mazarinade,  or  by  a  stirring 
harangue  delivered  by  some  popular  orator  from 
the  balcony  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 

In  the  midst  of  these  scenes  of  grotesque 
excitement,  which  lapped  her  in  an  elysium  of 
flattered  vanity,  the  political  labours  of  Madame 
de  Longueville  were  interrupted  by  her  accouche- 
ment. But  this  unseasonable  event  proved  the 
occasion  of  her  crowning  triumph.  The  day  of 
the  child's  baptism  was  observed  as  a  public 
festival.  The  rite,  administered  by  the  Coadjutor, 
was  surrounded  with  extraordinary  pomp.  The 
City  of  Paris  and  the  Duchess  of  Bouillon  stood 
sponsors;  the  infant,  Charles  Paris,  was  borne 
back  from  the  church  in  triumphal  procession 
and  then  exposed,  in  a  magnificent  cradle,  on  the 
steps  of  the  Hotel  de  Yille,  to  the  enthusiastic 
homage  of  the  rabble. 

The  ludicrous  incidents  of  the  war,  however 
were  varied  by  sterner  episodes,  although  even 
these  were  not  without  ridiculous  features.  The 
village  of  Charenton,  a  post  of  great  importance 
for  securing  the  entrance  of  supplies  into  the 
Capital,  had  been  occupied  by  three  thousand  of 


264 


tlie  flower  of  tlie  Parisian  army,  under  the  com- 
mand of  tlie  Marquis  of  Clanlieu,  a  gallant  soldier. 
Conde,  seizing  witli  savage  joy  the  opportunity  of 
striking  a  terrible  blow^  rushed  down  upon  the 
village  with  five  thousand  foot  and  three  thousand 
horse.  He  directed  his  friend,  the  Duke  of 
Chatillon,  to  storm  the  place  with  the  infantry, 
while  he  pushed  forward  in  person,  at  the  head  of 
the  cavalry,  in  the  direction  of  Paris  to  cover  the 
assault.  The  garrison,  stung  by  the  shame  of 
past  disgraces,  fought  with  desperate  resolution. 
Quarter  was  neither  asked  nor  given.  Chatillon 
and  Clanheu  fell  at  the  head  of  their  men  in  the 
hottest  of  the  fight ;  and,  after  an  hour's  fearful 
carnage,  Charenton  was  carried.  One  insurgent 
officer,  the  Marquis  of  Coignac,  escaped  by  spring- 
ing on  a  large  fragment  of  ice,  which  floated  him 
down  the  Seine  into  the  city;  the  rest  of  the 
defenders  were  put  to  the  sword.  Blackened  heaps 
of  smouldering  ruins,  thickly  strewn  with  charred 
corpses,  and  soaked  in  blood,  alone  remained  to 
tell  the  story  of  .gratified  vengeance.  Before  the 
attack  began,  Elboeuf,  having  received  timely 
intimation  of  Condi's  purpose,  assembled  twenty 
thousand  of  the  municipal  bands  to  succour 
Claulieu.  But  the  sight  of  the  redoubtable  Prince, 
watching  their  tardy  evolutions  at  the  head  of  his 
cavalry,  caused  the  hearts  of  the  citizens  to  sink 


265 

within  them.     De  Eetz,  booted  and  spurred,  a 
Bword  at  his  side  and  pistols  in  his  holsters,  and 
Madame  de  Longueville,  who,  still  ailing,  had  risen 
from  her  couch  to  distribute  azure   scarves  with 
her  own  fair  hands,  vainly  essayed  to  raise  their 
spirits.     Honour  pricked  them  on,  but  discretion 
held  them  back.     Elboeuf,   perplexed   and  inca- 
pable,  held  a   council  of  war,   wherein    it   was 
resolved  that,  considering  the  impetuous  valour  of 
the  Parisian  troops,  an   attempt  to  dislodge  the 
foe  must   result  in  the  loss  of  valuable  citizens, 
and  the  lamentations  of  their  wives.     Rather  than 
incur  the  risk   of    such   calamities,  the   tender- 
hearted  General  sounded  a  retreat.     Clanlieu  was 
abandoned  to  his   fate,  and  Conde,  glutted  with 
slaughter,  was  left  in  undisturbed  possession  of 

the  field. 

A  few  days  after  the  storming  of  Charenton,  the 
Duke  of  Beaufort  led  out  a  numerous  force  to  pro- 
tect the  return  of  the  Marquis  of  Noirmoutier,  who 
had  coUected  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Paris  a  large 
herd  of  cattle.  A  train  of  shrieking  amazons  from 
the  fish-markets  accompanied  their  hero  to  the 
gate,vowinghorribleretaliationuponallwhoshould 

daro  to  assail  him.  The  insurgents  soon  came  into 
collision  with  a  body  of  cavalry  under  Marshal 
Grammont.  Beaufort  fought  like  a  lion  at  the 
head  of  his  men;  though  wounded  and  disarmed 

N 
VOL.   I. 


266 


he  gallantly  maintained  tlie  battle,   and  after  a 
stiff  contest,  botli  sides  retired.     Some  fugitives, 
however,    carried   exaggerated    rumours    of   his 
danger  into  Paris.     Immediately  thirty  thousand 
of  the  lower  classes,  men,  women,  and  children, 
armed  with    spits,   brooms,   and   every   homely 
weapon  they  could    snatch  up  in    haste,  rushed 
forth  to  the  rescue  of  the  King  of  the  Markets. 
They  found  him  at  a  considerable  distance  from 
the  walls  quietly  awaiting  the  coming  up  of  the 
convoy.     Transported  with  joy  at  his  safety,  the 
fish-hags  threw  themselves  upon  him  in  a  species 
.of  Bacchanalian    frenzy,  almost  stifled  him   and 
his  horse  in  their  embraces,  and  then  squatting  over 
the  adjacent  fields  watched  patiently  for  several 
hours,  to  shield  him  from  further  peril.     At  last 
Noirmoutier,  having  luckily  eluded  the  vigilance 
of  Conde's  skirmishers,  made  his  appearance;  and 
then,   with   wild  laughter  and    tears  and  extra- 
vagant gambols,   the    vast    cortege  returned  to 
Paris,   soldiers,    populace,    and    cattle    mingled 
together  in  inextricable  confusion.     A  charge  oi 
the  Koyal  troops  must  have  ended  in  a  fearful 
massacre. 

The  ridicule  provoked  by  their  inglorious  ex- 
ploits, the  grief  daily  renewed  by  the  spectacle  of 
their  damaged  finery,  the  ruin  of  their  trade,  the 
pressure  of  taxation,  the  increasing  dearth  of  pro- 


267 


visions,  soon  thoroughly  disgusted  the  substantial 
burghers  with  the  war.  Their  feelings  were  shared 
by  the  majority  of  the  Parliament.  Abhorring 
the  very  name  of  rebellion,  and  armed  only  in 
legitimate  defence  of  the  Declaration  of  October, 
Mole  and  his  friends  were  scared  by  the  tragic  fall 
of  royalty  in  England,  and  learned  with  misgiving 
that  their  Generals  had  entered  into  a  secret  com- 
pact not  to  disband  their  troops  until  the  personal 
demands  of  each  had  been  fully  satisfied.  Intelli- 
gence of  this  favourable  change  of  disposition  was 
privately  conveyed  to  Mazarin  by  the  Municipal 
Authorities,  who,  though  compelled  to  temporise 
with  the  insurrection,  had  remained  staunchly 
loyal. 

The  Government,  on  its  side,  was  urged  by  the 
most  powerful  motives  to  seek  an  accommodation. 
Several  of  the  provincial  ParKaments  had  espoused 
the  quarrel  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  and 
launched  Decrees  of  banishment  against  the 
Cardinal.  Numerous  towns  and  fortresses 
throughout  the  kingdom  had  declared  for  the 
Fronde.  The  public  taxes,  diverted  from  the 
royal  treasury,  supplied  the  Dukes  of  Longueville, 
La  Tremouille,  and  other  potent  insurgent  nobles 
with  the  means  of  raising  armaments  for  the  rehef 
of  the  Capital.  The  greater  part  of  the  military 
force,  which  the  peace  of  Munster  had  promised 

N  2 


268 


to  place  at  the  disposal  of  the  Regent,  had  either 
disbanded  or  mutinied  for  want  of  pay,  or  was 
dispersed  to  curb  the  disaffection* of  the  provinces. 
The  dubious  conduct  of  Viscount  Turenne  caused 
serious  uneasiness  at  Court.     It  was  known  there 
that  this  great  General  was  listening  to  the  solici- 
tations of  his  brother,  to  lead  back  the  army  of 
Germany  against  Conde.     It  was  also  known  that 
the  Archduke  Leopold,  eagerly  watching  his  op- 
portunity to  extort  favourable  conditions  of  peace 
for  exhausted  Spain,  meditated  marching  a  power- 
ful force  over  the  naked  frontier.    The  investing 
body  was  not  only  insufficient  to  capture  Paris, 
but  was  exposed  to  be  overwhelmed  by  the  con- 
verging attacks  of  superior  armies.     The  angry 
clouds  that  hurried  up  in  gathering   ruin  from 
every  point  of  the  political  horizon  made  Cardinal 
Mazarin  tremble  for  France ;  the  hostile  Decrees  of 
so  many  of  the  great  judicial  bodies  made  him 
tremble  for  himself,  and  in  his  nightly  conferences 
with  his  mistress,  he  was  the  strenuous  advocate 
of  peace.     He  represented  to  Anne  of   Austria 
that  an  implacable  prosecution  of  hostilities  would 
arm  the  Generals  and  demagogues  of  the  capital 
with  a  pretext  for  crushing  the  loyal  majority  of 
the  High  Court,  or  forcing  it  into  an  aUiance  with 
Spain ;    would   light   up  throughout   the   entire 
kingdom  the  flames  of  civil  war,  and  must  result 


269 


in  delivering  over  the  realm  as  a  spoil  to  its 
foreign  and  domestic  enemies,  or  in  rendering 
the  victorious  Conde  military  dictator  during  the 
minority  of  her  son.  On  the  other  hand,  a  tem- 
porary compliance  with  the  demands  of  Mole 
and  his  party,  demands  more  than  once  con- 
ceded, and  which  might  be  again  revoked, 
would  cut  the  ground  from  under  the 
traitorous  nobles  and  re-establish  her  authority 
upon  the  support  of  the  Parliament.  The 
prospect  of  seeing  herself  and  her  cherished 
minister  at  the  mercy  of  her  discarded  friends, 
the  ^^  Importants,"  aided  by  the  troops  of  her 
brother,  or  puppets  of  the  imperious  Conde, 
was  intolerable  to  Anne  of  Austria.  While  she 
listened,  half  convinced,  to  Mazarines  counsels, 
a  warning  voice,  eloquent  in  all  the  force  of  tragic 
experience,  fell  upon  her  ear.  The  unhappy 
Henrietta  Maria,  Queen  of  England,  had  remained 
behind  in  her  cheerless  solitude  at  the  Louvre 
after  the  departure  of  the  Court.  One  day,  in 
the  depth  of  the  unusually  severe  winter,  De 
Retz  found  her  without  food  or  fire,  shivering  by 
the  bed-side  of  her  daughter,  who  was  unable  to 
rise  on  account  of  the  extreme  cold.  The  sight 
of  a  great  Queen,  the  daughter,  sister,  and  aunt  of 
a  King  of  France,  destitute  of  the  necessaries  of 
life  in  the   principal   palace   of  her   royal  race, 


270 


touched  the  not  ungenerous  heart  of  the  Coadjutor^ 
and  he  obtained  for  her  a  liberal  provision  from 
the  Parliament.  Shortly  afterwards  the  news  of 
the  judicial  murder  of  her  husband  plunged  the 
ill-fated  lady  in  anguish  and  despair.  In  her 
desolation  she  implored  her  sister-in-law  to  be 
wise  in  time^  and  to  beware  of  arousing,  by 
arbitrary  acts,  the  ferocious  passions  of  an  in- 
furiated people. 

The  gravity  of  the  situation  also  sobered  Conde, 
hitherto  the  fiercest  advocate  of  repression.     He 
felt  convinced  that  he  had  done  enough  to  com- 
mand the  lasting  gratitude  of   the  Regent,  who 
loaded  him  with  marks  of   affection,  constantly 
styling  him  her  third  son ;  and  he  was  not  insen- 
sible to  the  glory  of  again  giving  peace  to  France. 
The  result  of  this  revulsion  of  feeUng  at  St. 
Germain  was,  that  the  deliberations  of  the  Coad- 
jutor and  his  military  aUies  were  disturbed  by  the 
unwelcome   intelligence  that  a  royal  herald,  bear- 
ing  letters  for  the   High   Court,  had  presented 
himself  at  the  city  gates  and  demanded  audience. 
In  the  present  temper  of  the  citizens,  the  opening 
of  communication  between  the    Court    and   the 
Parliament  was  fraught  with  ruin  to  the  personal 
projects  of  the  insurgent  leaders.     De  Retz,  ever 
fertile  in  resource,  hit  upon  an  ingenious  mode  of 
averting  the  danger.     He  hinted  to  Broussel  that 


271 


as  heralds  were  sent  only  to  sovereign  princes 
and  rebels,  the  present  mission  was  a  perfidious 
device  of  Cardinal  Mazarin  to  entrap  the  ParHa- 
ment  into  a  confession  of  high  treason.  This 
plausible  theory,  greedily  accepted  and  confidently 
expounded  by  Broussel  and  his  democratic  friends, 
had  the  expected  effect  of  filling  the  majority  of 
the  magistrates  with  distrustful  fears.  But  Mole 
adroitly  foiled  the  Coadjutor  with  his  own  weapons. 
Acquiescing  in  the  validity  of  the  plea  against 
receiving  the  King^s  missive,  he  carried  a  resolu-  . 
tion  that  the  law  officers  of  the  Crown  should  be 
deputed  to  St.  Germain  to  explain  to  the  Regent 
that  jealous  loyalty  and  not  disrespect  prompted  the 
refusal.  The  Attorney- General,  the  eloquent  and 
patriotic  Omer  Talon,  and  his  colleagues,  discharged 
their  commission  with  zeal  and  prudence.  Their 
excuses  were  graciously  listened  to  by  the  Regent. 
They  learned  that  the  royal  letter  had  only  exacted 
the  retirement  of  the  Parliament  for  one  day  to 
Montargis,  as  the  price  of  a  general  amnesty ;  and 
their  rose-coloured  pictures  on  their  return  of  the 
benevolent  dispositions  of  the  Court,  fostered  the 
growing  desire  of  peace. 

A  premature  agreement  between  Anne  of 
Austria  and  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  which  left 
Mazarin  Prime  Minister  of  France,  must  topple 
down  the  ladder  of  intrigue  which  De  Retz  had 


272 

constructed  witli  so  much  secret  toil  and  skill  to 
form  his  own  ascent  to  power.     The  time  was  come 
when,  in  order  to  inspirit  his  partizans  and  to  baffle 
the  efforts  of  the  peace  party,  it  was  necessary  for 
liiTn  to  play  a  bolder  game ;  to  unmask  the  deeper 
and  more  dangerous  operations  of  his  policy,  to 
which  the  revolt  of  the  Capital  was  meant  to  serve 
as  an  introduction.  The  civil  war  now  passed  into  a 
graver  and  sterner  phase.  The  laughable  incidents 
and  the  gay  frivolity,  which  had  given  it  the  clia- 
racter  of  a  glittering   comedy,  disappeared.   The 
splendid     phantoms     that     had      been     paraded 
to   attract  the   popular  favour  faded  away  into 
the    background,   and   the   interest    centred    in 
the  real  actors.     The  jealousy   of  the   Prince   of 
Marsillac  had   severed  the  intimate  relations  of 
Madame  de  Longueville  with  the  Coadjutor— and 
shortly  afterwards  a  dangerous  wound,  which  the 
Prince  received  in   a  sally,  bereft  her  also  of  hia 
support.     Nature  had   not   formed   her  for  the 
rough  career  of  a  revolutionary   heroine.      The 
Hotel  Eambouillet,  with  its  refined  pleasures  and 
its   circle   of  briUiant   adorers,    was   her  proper 
sphere.     The  timid  Conti,  still  less  at  ease  amidst 
the  rude  famiharities  and  the  violent  passions  of  a 
Parisian  mob,  instead  of  being  a  prop,  leant  on  her 
for  protection.     Chagrined    and    dispirited    she 
retired  into  privacy ;  and  the  Hotel  de  Bouillon, 


273 

whither  the  Coadjutor  repaired  every  day  to  con- 
fer with  the  Duke  and  his  energetic  wife,  became 
the  head  quarters  of  the  Fronde. 

De  Retz  and  Bouillon,  by  far  the  ablest  men  and 
the  most  sternly  in  earnest  of  the  insurgent  party, 
were  thoroughly  in  accord  as  regarded  the  policy  of 
overthrowing    the    existing    Government.      But 
their  different  political  views  and  personal  aims 
caused  a  divergence  of  opinion  as  to  the  means 
that  should  be  adopted  to  accomplish  this  purpose. 
Bouillon  opposed  Cardinal  Mazarin  as  the  leading 
representative  of  a  system   which   triumphed  by 
his  own   abasement,   and  the   abasement   of  his 
order.     He  sought  to   be    re-established  in  his 
sovereign  dignity,  and  his  forfeited  territory   of 
Sedan,  to  aggrandize  his  family  connexions,  and, 
as  a  more  remote   object   of  desire,  to  restore  the 
feudal  power  of  the  nobles.     Contemning  public 
rights,  other  than   those  of  the  higher  orders  of 
the  realm,   chafed    by    the    pretensions    of  the 
Chambers,  and  by  association  with  plebeian  gowns- 
men, having  no  sympathy  for  the  grievances  of  the 
Third  Estate,  he  wished  to  coerce  the  Parliament 
and  rule  the  Capital  by  the  terror  of   organized 
mobs  ;  to  invite  the  Spanish  army  of  Flanders  to 
co-operate  with  the  troops  of  Turenne,  the  pro- 
vincial levies  of  the  territorial  magnates,  and  the 
Parisian  forces  in   dictating  terms  to  the  Crown. 

N  5 


274 

He  had  hitherto  held  himself  aloof  from  active 
participation  in  the  war,  wrapping  himself  up  in 
haughty  isolation   until  the  preparations  of  the 
Archduke,   of    Turenne,  and  of  his   aristocratic 
confederates  were  sufficiently  matured  to  enable 
him  to   assume  a  position  corresponding  to  his 
claims.     He  now  proposed  to  cast  aside  the  cause 
of  the  Parhament  and  the  constitution  of  October 
as  a  worn-out  garment,  to  crush  the  opposition  of 
the  loyal   magistrates,   and,  strong  in  his  potent 
aUiances,  to  confront  Anne  of  Austria  as  an  equal 
competitor    for   the    possession  of  France.     The 
other  Generals  coincided  in  his  views. 
.     De    Eetz  hated  Mazarin  as  a  personal  rival. 
Having  no  longer  any  hope  of  supplanting  his 
enemy  in  the  favour  of  the  Regent,  he  sought  to 
drive  him  from  the  kingdom  by  the  force  of  a 
popular  movement  deriving  its  sanction  from  the 
venerable   authority   of    the   Parliament,    which 
would  bear  himself  on  its  crest  to  the  direction  of 
affairs.  In  order  to  endue  this  movement  with  the 
power,  energy,  and  ^prestige  necessary  to  overturn 
a  long-estabhshed  and  successful  administration, 
he  had  drawn  into  it  discontented  ambitions  of 
Princes   of  the   Blood   and  feudal  chiefs,  which 
only  partially   approved  themselves  to  his   con- 
victions ;  and  he  even  desired  the  intervention  of 
the  Spaniards  so  far  as  it  could  be  made  subser-j 


275 

(    vient  to  his  main  object.     But  it  was  counter  to 
his  views  to  destroy  the  authority  of  the  great 
judicial  body  which  was  the  chief  pillar  of  his  own 
ambition;   which,   by   countenancing  the   revolt, 
raised  it  from  a  mere  outbreak  of  faction  into  a 
patriotic   assertion  of  national  rights>  clothed  it 
with  the  strength   of   justice   and  legality,  and 
enlisted  in  its  support  the  active  sympathies  of 
the  middle  classes.      It  was  equally  contrary  to 
his  intentions,  by  any  rash  step,  to  place  himself 
beyond  the  pale  of  Parliamentary  protection,  a 
safe  object  for  the  vengeance  of  the  Regent.    As 
wary  as  he  was  bold,  he  was  the  soul  of  the*  re- 
bellion, and  yet  carefully  guarded  his  own  security^ 
fHe  moved  all  the  springs  of  the  Fronde  without 
letting  his  hand   be  too  conspicuous.     Through 
Beaufort  he  ruled  the  populace  of  Paris.  Through 
Bouillon  and  the  other  Generals  he  guided  the 
military    operations    and   the  Spanish  intrigues. 
Through  Broussel  and  other  popular  demagogues 
he   swayed  the   deliberations   of  the  Chambers. 
But  while  bringing  all  the  moral  influences  he 
could  command  to  inflame  and  extend  the  civil 
war,  and  to  shape  the  action  of  the  Parhament  in 
a  course  of  uncompromising  resistance,  he  pro- 
tected the  magistrates   from  seditious  violence, 
and  regulated  his  steps  by  their  decisions^ 
r^It  was  clear,  however,  to  both  of  these  exj, 


276 


perienced  leaders,  that  unless  the  fainting  spirits 
^f  the  Parisians  could  be  raised  by  an  immediate 
prospect  of  external  aid,  the  struggle  against  the 
Government  must  collapse.  The  great  provincial 
nobles  still  required  time  to  complete  their  arma- 
ments. Turenne,  thwarted  by  the  opposition  of 
Baron  d^Erlach,  Colonel  of  the  Swiss,  had  not  yet 
ventured  on  a  public  declaration  of  his  intentions. 
Alliance  with  Spain  would  be  spumed  by  the 
Parliament  with  horror.  But  it  occurred  to  the 
Coadjutor  that  it  might  be  possible,  by  a  surprise, 
to  trick  the  High  Court  into  an  appearance  of 
friendly  communication  with  the  Archduke 
Leopold,  which,  by  feeding  the  war  fever  in 
the  Capital,  and  by  incensing  the  Kegent,  must 
cast  new  obstacles  in  the  way  of  an  accom- 
modation. 

The  Archduke  had  recently  accredited  a  skilful 
agent  to  De  Retz  and  Bouillon,  a  monk  named 
Arnulphini,  furnished  with  a  number  of  blank 
forms  signed  by  Leopold,  and  vnth  a  formal  letter 
of  credence  to  the  Duke  of  Elboeuf,  to  be  used 
according  as  the  two  leading  chiefs  might  see  fit. 
This  envoy,  acting  in  concert  with  the  Coadjutor, 
now  assumed  the  name  and  garb  of  Don  Joseph 
de  Illescas,  a  Spanish  cavalier,  and  presented  the 
letter.  Elbceuf,  who  was  vain  and  presumptuous, 
received    the  Archduke's    communication  as    a 


277 


flattering^  mark  of   distinction.     With  an   air  of 
mysterious  importance,  that  was  highly  diverting 
to  the  contrivers  of  the  intrigue,  he  invited  his 
military  colleagues  and  De  Retz  to  a  conference  at 
his  hotel,  and  introduced  to  them  the  pseudo  am- 
bassador.    In  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  the 
Prince  of  Conti  announced,  from  his  place  in  the 
Chamber,  that  the  Archduke  Leopold,  having  been 
offered   most   advantageous   terms   of  peace  by 
Cardinal  Mazarin,  who  wished  to  have  his  hands 
free  to  oppress  the  Parliament,  had  not  only  re- 
fused   to    abet   the   designs   of   the    proscribed 
minister,  but  had  dispatched  a  special  envoy  to 
crave  audience  of  the  High  Court.     The   Prince 
concluded  by  divulging  the  arrival  of  Don  Joseph 
de  Illescas,  and  proposing  that  he  should  at  once 
be  heard.     The  motion  was  listened  to  by  the 
majority  of  the  Chamber  with  alarm  and  indig- 
nation.    The  President  de  Mesmes,  hurried  away 
by  patriotic  anger,  poured  a  torrent  of  invective 
upon  the  head  of  the  unmoved  Coadjutor.     In  the 
unguarded  rush  of  his  passion,  he  let  fall  a  phrase 
which  wounded  the  self-love  of  the  magistrates. 
De  Retz  promptly  interrupted  his  assailant,  and 
in  a  happy  retort  carried  the  Chamber  so  com- 
pletely with  him,  that  the  loyal  majority,  yielding 
to  the  clamour,  reluctantly  consented  to  grant  the 
envoy  audience. 


278 


279 


Arnulphini  immediately  presented  himself,  for- 
tified by  credentials  and  letters,  which  De  Retz 
had  manufactured  with  the  help  of  the  Archduke's 
signatures.     He   informed  the  magistrates   that 
his  master,  out  of  respect  for  their  illustrious  body, 
the  legal  depository  of  the  royal  authority  during 
the  minority  of  Louis  XIV.,  had  declined  to  coun- 
tenance   Cardinal  Mazarin;    that  the   Archduke 
was  ready  to  treat  for  peace  with  France  at  any 
place  the  Parliament  should  appoint,  and  in  the 
meantime  placed  twenty  thousand  troops  at  its  ser- 
vice.    Having  finished  his  harangue,  he  delivered 
his  letters,  and  by  the  order  of  the  First  President 
was  conducted  from  the  Chamber.     By  this  time 
the  cloud  of  passion  which  obscured  the  judgment 
of  the  assembly  had  passed  away,  and  been  fol- 
lowed by  a  re- action   of   patriotic  fears.     Mole, 
seeing  his  advantage,  proposed  that  a  deputation 
should  carry  the  letters  to  St.  Germain,  and  inform 
the  Regent  that  the  Parliament  had  not  presumed 
to  deliberate  on,  or  even  to  open  them  without  the 
royal  permission.     A  decree  to  this  effect  passed 
without  opposition,  and  the  Coadjutor  found  his 
bold   artifice  foiled,  a  second  time,  by  the  calm 
decision  of  the  First  President. 

The  failure  of  this  clever  imposture  exasperated 
the  Generals.  Bouillon  urged  the  Coadjutor  to 
excite  a  popular  commotion,  to  arrest,  and  imprison 


Mole,  and  the  principal  men  of  the  hostile  party, 
and  to  join  in  a  letter  demanding  armed  assistance 
from  the  King  of  Spain.  But  De  Retz,  knowing 
that  the  Spanish  alliance  was  the  rock  upon  which 
•the  most  powerful  confederacies  against  Richelieu 
had  foundered,  and  that  the  destruction  of  the 
independence  of  the  Parliament  would  be  the 
shipwreck  of  his  own  fortunes,  resolutely  refused 
his  assent.  ''  All  things,'^  he  said,  ^^  with  the 
Parliament ;  nothing  without  it.^'  The  Generals, 
therefore,  were  obliged  to  restrict  themselves  to 
negotiating  with  the  Court  of  Brussels,  on  their 
own  responsibility,  and  to  sending  pressing 
messages  to  their  provincial  allies  to  hasten  their 
movements. 

The  Coadjutor's  stratagem,  though  baffled  in 
the  Chamber,  was  not  without  its  effect  at  St. 
G  ermain.  Anne  of  Austria,  irritated  by  the  public 
audience  granted  to  her  brother's  envoy,  listened 
to  the  explanations  and  excuses  of  Mole  and  his 
colleagues  with  impatience.  The  entreaties  of 
the  First  President,  seconded  by  the  advice  of 
Orleans,  Conde,  and  Mazarin,  wrung  from  her 
with  difficulty  a  peevish  consent  to  a  conference, 
in  which  terms  of  agreement  might  be  discussed. 
She  privately  made  it  an  absolute  condition  that 
the  Cardinal's  position  of  Prime  Minister  should 
not  be  questioned.     On  the  other  hand,  she  pro- 


/ 


280 

mised  to  allow  a  daily  supply  of  provisions  to 
enter  the  Capital,  where  the  populace,  pinched  by 
the  approaches  of  famine,  showed  a  disposition  to 
repeat  the  revolutionary  excesses  of  their  fathers 
in  the  days  of  Bussy  le  Clerc  and  the  ''  Sixteen/' 
Armed  with  this  concession,  the  First  President 
returned  to  Paris,  and  treating  with  calm  scorn 
the  ferocious  threats  of  the  dregs  of  the  popula- 
tion, who  were  subsidised  by  Bouillon,  persuaded 
the  High  Court  to  accept  the  conference.     The 
Generals  again  proposed  to  assassinate  or   seize 
him,  and  to  kindle  an  insurrection  ;  and  again  De 
Eetz  steadily  withstood  their  pressure,  and  the 
more    dangerous    assaults    of    the    Duchess    of 

Bouillon. 

The  presidents  Viole  and  Coigneux,  leaders  of 
the  extreme  party,  were  associated  with  Mole  and 
De  Mesmes  to  represent  the  Chamber  at  Euel,  the 
seat  of  the  negotiations.     The  principal  members 
of  the  CouncH  of  State  attended  on  behalf  of  the 
Crown.     But  the  conditions  insisted  on  by  the 
Regent  were  found  to  be  as  haughty  and  severe  as 
if  she  were  imposing  the  harsh  law  of  the  con- 
queror on  prostrate   rebels.      They  exacted  the 
exile  of  the  High  Court  to  Montargis,  and  the 
suppression  or  curtailment  of  its  newly  acquired 
privileges.     It  was  impossible  for  the  magistrates 
to  accept  a  humiliation  which  involved  the  sur- 


281 


render  of  the  principles  embodied  in  the  Declara- 
tion of  October.  But  Anne  of  Austria,  jealous 
of  the  dignity  of  the  Crown,  and  submitting  with 
ill-humour  to  the  temporising  poHcy  of  her  Council^ 
could  not  be  induced  to  relax  her  demands.  The 
negotiations  came  to  a  dead-lock,  and  after  many 
days  of  barren  discussion  it  seemed  as  if  the  con- 
ference was  about  to  terminate  without  result. 

While  the  delegates  were  wasting  their  hours 
in   fruitless   debates,  the   course  of   events  had 
wrought  a  complete  change  in  the  character  and 
prospects  of  the  Civil  War  and  in  the  temper  of 
the  Capital.     Turenne,  crossing  the  Ehine  at  the 
head  of  his  army,  had  issued  a  proclamation  in 
which  he  assumed  the  title  of  Lieutenant- General 
of  the  King's  army  in  the  service  of  the  Parlia- 
ment, and  had  set  out  on  his  march  for  Paris. 
Before  the    citizens    recovered    from    the  first 
fever  of  joyful  excitement  into  which  this  news 
had  thrown  them,  messengers  from   Normandy 
announced  the  advance  of  the  Duke  of  Longue- 
ville,  with  ten  thousand  men,  on  St.  Germain,  to 
capture  the  King  and  the  Regent.    Fast  upon  the 
heels  of  Longueville's  couriers  came  others  from  the 
south  to  herald  the  arrival  of  a  still  more  numerous 
force  under  the  Duke  of  La  Tremouille.  A  second 
agent,   despatched  by  the    Archduke    Leopold, 
having  concluded  a  secret  treaty  with  the  Generals, 


282 

the  enterprising  Marquis  of  Noirmoutier  had 
departed  for  Brussels  to  hasten  the  invasion  of 
the  Spaniards.  And  in  order  better  to  co-operate 
with  the  movements  of  his  allies,  Bouillon  led  out 
fourteen  thousand  of  the  best  of  the  Parisian 
troops  to  an  entrenched  camp  at  Yillejuif,  in 
the  angle  formed  by  the  junction  of  the  Seine 
and  Marne — a  position  which  Conde  pronounced 
to  be  unassailable.  The  agitation  of  the  populace 
rose  to  frenzy.  The  inflexible  severity  of  the 
Eegent,  and  the  toleration  extended  to  Cardinal 
Mazarin,  alienated  the  middle  classes.  The  party 
of  the  Coadjutor  obtained  the  upper  hand  in  the 
Chambers,  and  the  Parliament  resolved,  by  a 
large  majority,  to  cancel  the  powers  of  its  dele- 
gates, and  recall  them  from  Ruel. 

The  intelligence  that  reached  him  from  the 
Capital  filled  the  patriotic  heart  of  Mole  with 
grief  for  the  calamities  impending  over  the 
monarchy.  An  intercepted  copy  of  the  treaty 
concluded  by  Bouillon  and  his  colleagues  with  the 
King  of  Spain,  which  was  communicated  to  him  by 
the  Regent,  excited  in  his  breast  poignant  feelings 
of  shame  and  indignation,  ^e  had,  up  to  this  time, 
scrupulously  avoided  any  recognition  of  Cardinal 
Mazarines  presence  at  Ruel,  but  now  all  other  con- 
siderations were  lost  in  an  over-mastering  purpose 
to  save  the  State  from  the  machinations  of  traitors. 


283 


With  his  friend  De  Mesmes,  who  shared  his  views, 
he  repaired  at  midnight  to  Mazarines  lodgings,  and 
told  the  astonished  Minister  that,  having  received 
intimation  that  their  commission  would  be  revoked 
on  the  following  day,  they  were  prepared  to  risk 
their  lives,  and  sign  without  further  delay  any  treaty 
which  he  might  dictate.     It  was  for  the  Ministers' 
interest  to  grant  such  conditions  as  would  justify 
their  act  to  the  Parliament,  and  enable  them  to 
defeat  the  practices  of  the  confederate  lords ;  but^ 
whatever  he  might   determine,   their  part  was 
chosen.     Mazarin,  fully  appreciating  the  peril  of 
the  situation  and  the  magnanimity  of  the  magis- 
trates, summoned  Orleans  and  Conde,  and  wrote  out 
the  draft  of  a  new  treaty.  In  whatever  touched  the 
dignity  of  the  Crown  this  document  was  studi- 
ously exacting ;  but  the  concessions  were  as  large 
as  he  could  hope  to  extort  from  the  Regent.     The 
banishment  of  the  Parliament  to  Montargis  was 
commuted  to  a  visit  to  St.  Germain ;  its  political 
discussions  were  subjected  to  a  temporary  res- 
traint ;    the   Government  reserved  to  itself   the 
right  of  borrowing  money  for  its  present  necessi- 
ties j  but  the  Declaration  of   October  the   24th 
was  explicitly  confirmed,  and  a  general  amnesty 
was   guaranteed.     With  the  draft  in  his  pocket, 
the    Cardinal  started  off  for   St.  Germain,  and 
after  some  hours    returned  with  it,   signed  by 


284 

the  Regent.  M0I&  and  De  Mesmes  wept  for  joy 
—and  even  Coigneux  and  Viole,  scared  by  the 
Spanisli  treaty,  affixed  their  names  without  hesi- 
tation. The  signatures  were  scarcely  dry  when 
messengers  arrived  with  the  decree  of  the  High 
Court  annulling  the  powers  of  its  representatives. 
Mole  displayed  the  treaty  in  triumph,  and  returned 
to  Paris,  amidst  the  hootings  and  execrations  of 
the  rabble,  conscious  of  his  danger,  and  prepared 
to  devote  his  life  for  his  country. 

The  Parhament,  though  strongly  adverse  to  a 
compromise  with  the  Regent,  which  left  Cardinal 
Mazarin  at  the  helm  of  affairs,  had  adjourned  in 
order  to  give  its  First  President  a  hearing  before 
coming  to  a  decision.      The  Generals  were  deter- 
mined to  use  all  means  to  prevent  the  ratification 
of  the  treaty.     At  an  early  hour  of  the  morning 
Paris  exhibited  all  the  signs  of  feverish  agitation. 
The  seditious  cries  and  the  lowering  looks  of  the 
groups,  restlessly  forming  and  dissolving  in  the 
places  of  public  resort,  gave  ominous  presage  of  a 
political  tempest.  .  At  seven  o'clock  the  members 
of  the  High  Court  were  in  their  places,  and  M0I6 
read  out  the  minutes  of  the  proceedings  at  Ruel. 
The  reading  was  frequently  interrupted  by  angry 
cries  and  insolent  comments,  which  swelled  at  its 
conclusion  into  a  tumult  of  frantic  denunciation. 
Conti  rose,  and  in  gentle  tones  reproached  the 


I 


285 

First   President  with  perfidiously   betraying  the 
interests  of  the  Generals,  who  were  abandoned  by 
the   treaty  to   the   vengeance    of    the   outlawed 
Minister.      Bouillon  followed,  saying  curtly,  that 
all  he  asked  of  the  Chamber  was  a  passport  to 
quit   the  kingdom,  since  Mazarin  was  to  be  re- 
established in   his  abuse  of  the  royal  authority. 
The  deafening  clamour  and  the  wild  gesticulations 
which   applauded   this   artful    speech  had    only 
partially  subsided,  when  a  muffled  roar,  making 
itself  audible  above  the  din,  announced  the  pre- 
sence of    an   excited  multitude  in  the  Place  de 
Greve.     Conti,  rising  again,  repeated  his   com- 
plaints against  the  First  President  for  concluding 
a   peace  without  his   participation.     Then  M0I6, 
unable  longer  to  restrain  his  indignation,  started 
to  his  feet  with  flashing  eyes,  and  in  a  voice  of 
thunder,  which  subdued  the  uproar,  and  arrested 
universal  attention,  addressed  the  Prince — ''What, 
Sir,''  he  exclaimed,  "  you  ask  why  we  concluded 
peace  without  your  participation  ?     We  did  so  to 
circumvent  the  pernicious,  traitorous,  and  mur- 
derous designs  of  yourself  and  your  colleagues. 
While  we  were  at  Ruel,''  he  continued,  turning  to 
the    assembly,  "our  self-styled  protectors  were 
neo-ociating  with  the  enemies  of  France.     You,'' 
he  said  to  Conti  and  Bouillon,  ''  sent  the  Marquis 
of  Noirmoutier  to  the  Archduke.    Your  letters. 


286 

which  we  have  read,  summoHed  the  Archduke  to 
France,  and  dehvered  this  fair  reahn  to  the  ravages 
of  a  foreign  enemy.      You  give  us  such   allies 
without  our  consent.     Can  you  wonder  that  we 
repudiate  and  resent  such  an  indignity  V     The 
Chamber    listened     spell-bound    in    incredulous 
amazement.     "  We  took  this  step/'  faltered  the 
disconcerted  Conti,  with  white  lips,  "  by  the  advice 
of  certain  members  of  this  august  Court.'^   "  Name 
them,   name  them,''  thundered   Mole,  ''and  we 
will  arraign  and  sentence  them  as  criminals  guilty 
of  high  treason."      His   vehement  words   were 
echoed  back  by  a  storm  of  applause.     The  magis- 
trates, revolting  from  their  position  of  dishonoured 
dupes,  gave  free  rein  to  their  patriotic  resentment. 
The  treaty  was  about  to  be  voted  by  acclamation, 
when  a  wild  clamour  of  shrieks  and  yells  resounded 
from   the   outer   hall,   and  the  terrified  ushers, 
rushing  into  the  Chamber,  implored  the  Duke  of 
Beaufort  to  come  forth   and   address   the  mob. 
Armed  ruffians,  in  Bouillon's  pay,  led  on  by  a 
lawyer  named  Deboisle,  had  invaded  the  Palace 
'  of  Justice,  loudly  demanding  Mole's  head. 

Beaufort  was  instantly  surrounded  by  a  band 
of  viragoes,  bereft,  by  a  life  of  lawless  de- 
pravity, of  all  but  the  form  of  their  sex,  who 
insisted  on  tearing  the  First  President  Umb  from 
limb.      While  he  held  these   furious   women  in 


287 


parley,  the  multitude  behind  burst  open  the  side 
doors,  and  with  horrible  imprecations  rushed  into 
the  galleries  of  the  Chamber.  Part  of  the  balus- 
trade, yielding  to  the  pressure  of  the  crowd, 
crashed  down  upon  the  trembhng  magistrates, 
and  increased  their  terror  and  confusion.  Mole 
alone  remained  calm  and  undaunted.  "  Never," 
says  De  Retz,  ''  did  I  behold  such  sublime  intre- 
pidity as  was  displayed  by  M.  Mole.  Not  a 
feature  quivered,  and  he  exhibited  indomitable 
firmness,  and  presence  of  mind  almost  super- 
natural." The  members  gathered  round  their 
President,  and  implored  him  to  quit  the  building 
by  a  door  behind  the  throne,  which  gave  access 
to  his  official  residence.  ''  The  Court  never  hides 
itself,"  he  repHed.  ''  If  I  knew  that  my  death 
was  certain,  nothing  should  induce  me  to  fly. 
Would  not  treason  be  encouraged  ?  Would  not 
the  rabble  seek  me  in  my  own  house,  if  I  was 
guilty  of  such  cowardice  ?"  And  he  strode  forward 
proudly  towards  the  grand  entrance.  De  Retz, 
moved  by  generous  admiration,  threw  himseK  in 
the  President's  path,  and  besought  him  at  least  to 
wait  until  he  endeavoured  to  disperse  the  rioters. 
''  Then,  my  good  lord,"  said  Mole,  in  bitter  scorn, 
"  speak  the  merciful  word  quickly."  The  Coad- 
jutor, disregarding  the  injurious  insinuation  which, 
in  the  present  instance,  was  undeserved,  mounted 


288 


on  a  bench  and  harangued  the  rabble,  but  was 
answered  with  jeers  and  laughter,  and  discharges 
of  musketry.     He  then  went  to  seek  Deboisle. 
M0I6,  disdaining  even  the  appearance  of  hesita- 
tion, refused  to  tarry  longer,  and  advanced  with  a 
few  faithful  friends  to  the  head  of  the  principal 
Btair-case.   De  Ketz  flew  to  his  side,  and  Bouillon, 
ashamed   and  alarmed   at    the  excesses    of    his 
partizans,   followed    the   Archbishop's    example. 
The  mob,  drunk  with  fury,  set  upon  them  with 
indiscriminating  violence.     Bouillon  was  felled  to 
the  ground  and  trampled  under  foot  by  his  own 
adherents.     De  Retz,  in  warding  off   a   dagger- 
thrust  from  the  President's  breast,  was  wounded 
in  the  hand.     A  ruffian  put  a  loaded  musket  to 
Mold's  head.     "  When  you  have  killed  me,''  said 
the  illustrious  magistrate,  with  unflinching  com- 
posure,  ''I   shall  only  need  six  feet  of  earth!" 
His  undaunted  bearing  and  noble  presence  struck 
even  the  frenzied  wretches,  who  thirsted  for  his 
blood,  with  awe.  Despite  themselves,  they  aUowed 
him  to  descend  thfe  steps;  his  friends  placed  him 
in  the  carriage  of  one  of  the  Generals,  and  he 
reached  his  house  in  safety. 

Early  on  the  f  oUowing  morning  Mole  was  agam 

in  his  place,  with  the  treaty  of  Ruel  in  his  hand. 

^  The  terrible  scene  of  the  previous  day  had  left  a 

yivid  impression  of  horror  on  the  minds,  even  of  his 


289 


•  opponents  in  the  Chamber.     Conti,  under  whose 
superior  rank  his  colleagues  had  sheltered  them- 
selves, sick  from  fright,  was  unable  to  leave  his 
bed.      The  other  Generals  earnestly  deprecated  a 
renewal  of  mob  violence,  and  declared  their  de- 
sire to  use  only  the  weapons  of  legitimate  argument ; 
and  the  Provost  of  Paris  mustered  the  Burgher 
Guard  to  protect  the  deliberations  of  the  High 
Court.      In  an  able  speech,  Bouillon  vaunted  the 
overwhelming  military  strength  of  the  confederacy, 
pledged  himself  to  raise  the  siege  of  Paris,  and 
to  expel  Mazarin  from  France.      But  the  alarm 
inspired  by  the  Spanish  treaty   lent  irresistible 
weight  to  the  eloquence  of  Mole.     The  Chamber 
struck  out  the  humiliating  clause  which  imposed 
on  it  a  penitential  journey  to  St.   Germain,  and 
whatever  else  infringed  the  rights  conceded  by  the 
Declaration  of    October,    but   accepted    the    re- 
mainder of  the  treaty  by  a  large  majority.      The 
First  President  was  again  deputed  to  obtain  the 
Regent's  assent  to  the  required  modifications. 

No  intelligence  from  Viscount  Turenne  had 
reached  Paris  for  several  days.  The  uncertainty 
that  rested  on  his  movements  determined  the 
military  chiefs  not  to  throw  away  an  opportunity 
of  serving  their  interests  by  peaceful  negotiations 
with  the  Regent ;  accordingly  they  sent,  through 
Mole,  a  formidable  schedule  of  demands  for  them- 
VOL.  I.  ^ 


I 


290 

selves  and  their  friends.  Anne  of  Austria  glanced 
scornfully  over  tins  liuge  catalogue  of  exactions, 
wliicli  implied  a  complete  change  in  the  distribu- 
tion of  political  power,  and  then  threw  it  aside, 
as  if  for  future  consideration.     But  a  third  envoy 
from  the  Archduke  arriving  with  intelligence  that 
ten  thousand  Spaniards  had  entered  Champagne, 
the  Generals  resumed  their  defiant  attitude ;  the 
High  Court  again  resounded  with  denunciations 
of  Cardinal  Mazarin ;  and  his  imputed  vices  were 
publicly  scourged  in  fresh  lampoons  impregnated  to 
the  highest  point  with  virulence  and  wit.    The  re- 
newed confidence  of   the  war  party  was  unex- 
pectedly dashed,  however,    by  a  piece   of  news 
which  reached  the  Hotel  Bouillon  while  De  Retz 
and  the   Spanish   envoy   were  dining,   in   high 
spirits,  with  the  Duke  and  Duchess. 

When  Turenne's  ambiguous  proceedings  first 
awakened  the  suspicions  of  the  Government,  the 
Cardinal  had  secretly  sent  a  large  sum  of  money 
and   the   commission   of    General   to   the  Baron 
d'Erlach,    with    instructions    to     frustrate    any 
treasonable  practices  on  the  part  of  his  superior 
officer,  by  discharging  the  arrears  of  pay  due  to 
the  troops,  and  assuming  the  supreme  command. 
These  precautionary  measures  proved  the  salvation 
of  the  Government.    The  army,  which  w^s  mainly 
composed  of  German  mercenaries,  won  over  by  the 


291 

golden  arguments  of  d'Erlach,  declared,  after  a  few 
marches  on  the  French  territory,  for  the  Regent 
and  Conde.  Turenne,  abandoned  by  all  except  a 
few  personal  attendants,  narrowly  escaped  arrest  by 
a  precipitate  flight  into  Germany.  The  Spanish 
force  ravaging  Champagne,  on  hearing  of  this 
defection,  beat  a  rapid  retreat  into  Flanders. 

The  game  of  the  Fronde  was  evidently  played 
out  for  the  present.  Baffled  and  isolated,  the 
confederate  lords  were  under  the  necessity  of 
acquiescing,  with  what  grace  they  might,  in  the 
restoration  of  tranquillity.  Bouillon,  in  announcing 
to  the  Parliament  the  failure  of  his  hopes,  declared, 
with  some  dignity,  on  behalf  of  the  Generals,  that 
their  demands  upon  the  crown  were  prompted  by 
the  necessity  of  protecting  themselves  against 
Cardinal  Mazarin,  and  that  they  were  ready  to 
relinquish  all  personal  claims,  if  the  banished 
minister  retired  from  France.  Notwithstanding 
this  show  of  disinterestedness,  the  Cardinal  found 
them  all  eager  to  engage  in  his  favourite  political 
game  of  secret  intrigue  and  corruption.  He 
carried  on  a  separate  negotiation  with  Conti  and 
Madame  de  Longueville,  with  Bouillon,  and  with 
Madame  de  Montbazon,  who  still,  in  spite  of  time 
and  absence,  reigned  without  a  rival  over  the 
heart  of  the  Duke  of  Beaufort.  The  noble 
character  and  devoted  loyalty  of  Mole  gave  just 


I 


292 

weight  to  his  counsels,  and  he  succeeded  in  per- 
suading the  Regent  to  ratify  the  treaty  of  Ruel, 
as  modified  by  the  Parliament.     The  leaders  of 
the  feudal  party  availed  themselves  of  the  amnesty^ 
and,  with  the  exception  of  Beaufort,  presented 
themselves  at  court    to   make  their   submission. 
Out  of  consideration  for  Conde,    Conti  obtained 
the  stronghold  of  Damvilliers  in  his  Government 
of    Champagne,   with   Marsillac   for  Lieutenant, 
enjoying  the  emoluments ;  and  Longueville  was 
promised  possession  of  Pont  de  TArche,  the  key 
of    Normandy.      Bouillon,  the  most    dangerous 
conspirator  and  the  deepest  in  guilt,  had  to  content 
himself  with  a  vague  assurance  that  his  claims 
would  be  examined  at  some  future  time.  Madame 
de  Montbazon,   whose   greed    was   insatiable  in 
ministering  to  her  luxurious  pleasures,  was  pro- 
pitiated by  the  gift  of  a  large  sum  of  money  ;  and 
some  favours  were  conferred  on  Noirmoutier  and 
other  staunch  partizans  of  De  Retz.     The  Coad- 
jutor  shaped  his  .own  course  with  his  usual  judg- 
ment.     The  prudence  and  foresight  which  had 
preserved  him  from   the  formal   guHt   of    high 
treason,  saved  him  now  from  the  humihation  of  a 
public  act    of    submission.     He  retired  to  the 
privacy  of  his  palace,  with  the  declared  intention 
of  occupying  himself  exclusively  with  his  episcopal 
duties  ;  and  although  he  sent  to  the  Regent  loyal 


293 

^  assurances  of  his  unalterable  devotion,  he  declined 
tr  visit  the  Court,  or  in  any  way  to  recognise 
Mazarin  as  Prime  Minister.  By  this  line  of 
conduct  he  maintained  his  credit  with  the 
Parisians,  and  avoided  compromising  his  political 

aims. 

In  the  beginning  of  April  peace  was  proclaimed 

in  the  Capital ;  the   armies   of  the   Fronde  were 
disbanded ;  and   affairs   appeared  to  resume  their 
normal    condition.      But  the  fierce    animosities 
from  which  the   conflict   had  sprung,  and  those 
which  it    had   engendered,    though    smothered, 
were  scarcely  allayed.     Society  was  still  agitated 
by  the   after-swell   of    the  revolutionary   storm. 
Anne  of  Austria,  mortified  at   the  failure  of  her 
pohcy,  distrustful  of  the  temper  of  the  citizens, 
and  deeply  galled  by  the  insults  and  the  defiance  so 
freely  flung  at  herself  and  her  cherished  minister, 
refused  to  enter  the  impenitent  city,  and  swept 
by  it  with  her  whole  Court  to  pass  the  summer  at 
Compiegne. 


END   OP   VOL.    I. 


T.  C.  Newby,  30,  Welbeck  Street,  Cavendish  Square,  London. 


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London  : 
T.     CAUTLEY     NEWBY,     PUBLISHER, 

30,  WELBECK  STREET,  CAVENDISH  SQUARE. 

1873. 

[all  rights  resebved.] 


^  i/ 1/,  0  3  3 


V=2 


THE    GREAT    CONDE    AND    THE 
PERIOD  OF  THE  FRONDE. 


CHAPTEE  I. 


7^/^3-// 


Amidst  the  majestic  solitudes  and  tlie  sylvan 
pleasures  of  her  delightful  retreat,  Anne  of 
Austria  found  grateful  repose  from  the  fierce 
strife  in  which  the  preceding  twelve  months  of 
her  Eegency  had  been  passed.  The  Court  was 
joyous  and  brilliant ;  the  beauty,  accomplishments, 
and  modest  graces  of  Mazarines  eldest  nieces, 
Laura  Mancini  and  the  Countess  Martinozzi,  who 
appeared  for  the  first  time  as  members  of  the 
Queen's  circle,  brightened  it  with  charms  which 
owed  nothing  of  their  lustre  to  meretricious  art. 
The  amnesty  stipulated  in  the  treaty  of  Ruel,  by 
re-opening  France  to  illustrious  exiles  of  the  high 


VOL.    II. 


B 


76144 


nobility,  gave  additional  splendour  to  the  royal 
retinue.     The  Duke  of  Vendome,  returning  from 
his  long  sojourn  in  Italy,  repaired  to  Compeigne 
with  his  eldest   son,  the  Duke  of  Mercoeur;  and 
even  Madame  de  Chevreuse,    notwithstanding  her 
recent  treason  at  Brussels,  ventured  ba^k  to  her 
beloved  Paris.     Anne   of  Austria,  incensed  by  a 
Btep  which  she  regarded  as  a  new  act  of  defiance, 
ordered  the  Duchess  to  quit  the  kingdom.     But 
the  mandate  was  almost  immediately  revoked  in 
deference  to  the  remonstrances  of  the  First  Presi- 
dent Mole  ;  and  the  Kegent,  softened  by  a  penitent 
letter  of  submission,  allowed  her  old  friend  to  re- 
appear at  Court,  and  even  to  resume  some  of 
the  privileges  of  a  favourite. 

The  tranquillity  of  Compeigne,  however,  waa 
soon  disturbed  by  the  breaking  out  of  dissensions 
between   Conde  and  the  Cardinal.     The  Prince 
had  naturaUy  expected  that  his  birth,  his  gemus, 
and  the  great  services  he  had  rendered  the  Crown, 
would  entitle  him  to  the  lead  in  the  Council  of 
State.     But  he  found,  to  his  indignation  and  dis- 
gust, that,  peace  being    re-established,  he  was 
reduced  to  play  a  part  subordinate  to  that  of  the 
Minister.     The  popular  sarcasm,  which  designated 
him  Mazarines   Captain  of  the  Guard,  cut  him  to 
the  quick,  and  an  event  occurred  which  blew  up 


ii 


a 


into  a  fierce  blaze  the  smouldering  fire  of  his 
jealous  resentment.  The  Duke  of  Yendome,  a 
cowardly  and  incapable  Prince,  pining  for  the 
sunshine  of  Court  favour,  from  which  he  had  been 
BO  long  banished,  proposed  a  marriage  between 
his  eldest  son  and  Laura  Mancini.  Mazarin 
eagerly  grasped  at  an  illustrious  alliance  which 
had  long  been  floating  in  his  ambitious  dreams. 
Mercoeur  fell  captive  to  the  charms  of  the  beauti- 
ful Itahan.  The  Regent  warmly  promoted  the 
match;  and  the  CardinaFs  dower  to  his  niece,- 
the  post  of  High  Admiral  of  France  for  yend6me, 
with  succession  to  his  son,  and  an  enormous  sum 
of  money,  was  not  unworthy  the  rank  of  her 
intended  husband.  But  the  House  of  Yendome, 
the  fruit  of  Henry  lY.'s  amour  with  Gabrielle 
d'Estrees,  and  exalted  by  the  prodigal  favour  of  its 
progenitor  to  an  equal  footing  with  the  legitimate 
Princes  of  the  Blood,  had  always  been  regarded  by 
these,  and  especially  by  the  Conde  family,  with 
scorn  and  hatred.  The  great  dignity  which  the 
Reo-ent  was  now  about  to  confer  on  its  inglorious 
chief,  out  of  complaisance  for  her  Minister,  she 
had  frequently  refused  to  the  brilliant  services  of 
the  Prince ;  and  he  thought  he  discerned  a  perfi- 
dious design,  on  the  part  of  the  Court,  to  depress 
his  power,  and  to  restore,  at  the  expense  of  his 

B  2 


4 

just  claims,  the  fallen  greatness  of  a  rival  family. 
The  Dowager  Princess,  after  the  peace  of  Ruel, 
had  reconcHed  her  children.    Madame  de  Longue- 
viUe  had  recovered  her  hold  upon  the  affections 
of  her  fiery  brother.     Smarting  under  the  cuttmg 
disdain  with  which  the  Regent  had  received  her  at 
St  Germain,  the  Duchess  now  worked  so  ^rtfuUy 
upon  Condi's  passions,  that,  giving  free  rein  to  his 
wrath,  he  publicly  denounced  the  marnage,  and 
all  who  were  in  any  way  parties  to  it,  in  outrageous 
terms  of  menace  and  insult.     And  although  the 
alarmed  Minister  pretended  to  abandon  the  project 
of  alliance  witn  Venddme,  Hs  haughty  protector 
quitted  Compeigne  in  high  dudgeon,  and  retn-ed 
to  his  Government  of  Burgundy. 

Conde's  departure  left    in  the  mind  of  the 
Eegent  a  sense  of  inexpressible  reUef,  but  the 
position  of  pubUc  affairs  made  his  support  mdis- 
pensable  to  the  Government.    The  state  of  the 
Capital  was  far  from  satisfactory.     The  well-dis- 
posed inhabitants  mourned  the  depression  of  trade, 
and  the  desolate  aspect  of  deserted  palaces  and 
mansions ;  the  evil-disposed  saw  with  regret  that 
the  Regent  and  her  Minister  were  beyond  their 
reach.    De  Retz,  Beaufort,  and  their  partizans 
fomented  the  general  discontent.    The  Cardinal 
was  again  freely  assaUed  in  the  Chambers,  and  m 


.. 


virulent  brocliures.     The  Duke  of    Orleans  re- 
turned to  the   Luxembourg  amidst  extravagant 
demonstrations  of  popular  delight.     Vast  multi- 
tudes thronged  forth  to  meet  him,  weeping  with 
joy,  and  pressing  eagerly  to  kiss  his  feet  -,  and  all 
the  public  bodies  came  to  offer  him  their  homage. 
Cond6  paid  a  flying  visit  to  the   Capital,  and 
although  he  had  found  a  malicious  pleasure  in 
spreading  the  belief  that  it  was  his  habit,  during 
the  war,  to  feast  on  the  ears  of  the  fat  burghers 
he  had  killed  or  taken,    his  dauntless  bearing  as 
he  traversed,  unattended,  the  crowded  thorough- 
fares, elicited   applause.      But   an  empty  coach 
bearing   Mazarines  aims,    sent   into    the  city  to 
test  the  temper  of  the  population,  was  smashed 
to  pieces  by  the  mob  ;    and  some  of  the  Regent's 
servants  who  ventured  to  show  themselves  in  the 
streets,  in  the  royal  liveries,  were  cruelly  beaten. 
Anne   of   Austria,   naturally  incensed  by   these 
evidences   of     hostile  feeling,    gave    ungracious 
answers   to   the    deputations  that   arrived  from 
Paris,  in  rapid  succession,  to  entreat  her  to  return. 
The  pressure,  however,  of  financial   difficulties, 
which  the  Parliament  refused  to  consider  during 
the  absence  of  the  Court,  and  the  re-appearance 
of  Conde  at  Compeigne  in  an  amiable  mood,  after 
a  time,  rendered  her  more  compUant. .  The  Prince, 


Hi 


appeased  by  the  Minister's  submission,  and  dis- 
liking tbe  principles,  tbe  tactics,  and  tbe  chief 
heroes  of  the  Fronde,  pledged  himself  to  conduct 
the  Court  in  safety  to  the  Palais  Royal. 

Under  his  protection  the  Eang,  the  Regent,  and 
the  Cardinal  set  out  from  Compeigne  in  the  middle 
of  a  sultry  August.     Through  one  of  those  sudden 
revolutions   of    pubhc  feeling,  which  have  made 
the  fickleness  of   the  French  people  proverbial, 
their  entry  into  the  Capital  was  an  extraordinary 
triumph.      The  loyal  enthusiasm  of   the  citizens 
was  only  equalled  by  their  considerate  delicacy. 
Everything  that  could  suggest  the  slightest  recol- 
lection of  past  troubles,  even  the  chains  which  at 
that  time  guarded  the   entrances  of   the  streets, 
were  carefully  removed  from  view.     Strangest  of 
all.  Cardinal  Mazarin,  whom  every  day  for  years 
the  Parisians  had  loaded  with  curses  and  insults, 
found  himself,  as  he  sat  at  one  of  the  doors  of 
the  King's  coach,  a  popular  idol.     Wherever  he 
passed  he  heard  nothing  except  the  language  of 
adulation.    The  sinister-looking  outlaws  of  society, 
who  herded  in  the  foul  dens  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Notre  Dame,  proved  false  to  their  Archbishop  ; 
the  fish  hags  were  unfaithful  to  Beaufort  in  their 
clamorous  admiration  of  the  handsome  Cardinal* 
At  the  opposite  door  of  the  coach  Cond^  sat,  with 


iron  countenance,  noting  the  capricious  humour 
of  the  rabble  in  silent  disdain.     The  evening  was 
far  advanced  before  a  slow  progress  of  many  hours 
in  the  stifling  heat,  through  the  choked  streets, 
brought  the  Sovereigns  to  the  Palais  Royal.    The 
noble  halls  of   Richelieu  blazed  with  light,  and 
were  thronged  to  suffocation  by  every  person  of 
eminence,  Mazarinist  or  Frondeur,  in  Paris.    Even 
De  Retz  and  Beaufort,  borne  along  in  spite  of 
themselves  by  the  rushing  tide  of  loyal  re-action, 
were  there  to   offer  reluctant  homage.     In  the 
view  of  this  splendid  assembly,  Anne  of  Austria, 
radiant  with  joy,  turned  to  Cond6  with  tearful 
eyes,  and  pledged  her  eternal  crratitude  for  the 
services  he  had  rendered  the  King.     So  strong 
did  she  feel  herself,  in  the  overwhehning  revulsion 
of  popular  favour,  that  she  proffered  De  Retz  the 
option  of  resigning  his  Coadjutorship  or  paying  a 
visit  of  reconciliation  to  the  Cardinal.     The  dis- 
comfited prelate— on  whom  vexation  at  the  sur- 
prising turn  of  affairs  brought  a  serious  illness- 
bowed  before  the  storm,  had  a  most  affectionate 
conference  with  his  complacent  rival,  and  then 
retired  to  the  precincts  of  Notre  Dame  to  watch 
warily,  until  the  rapid  mutation  of  public  feeling 
offered  another  opportunity  of  hurling  him  from 
power. 


8 


Conde  was  now  Arbiter  of  France.    His  posi- 
tion was  such;   so  favourable  a  concurrence  of 
circumstances  seconded  bis  ambition^  that  had  he 
used  his   advantages   with  ordinary  wisdom  his 
power  might  have  become  as  stable  as  it  was  vast. 
In  re-establishing  the  Court  at  the  Palais  Royal, 
he  had  redeemed  his  pledges  to  the  Regent,  and 
was  now  free  to  pursue  an  independent  course. 
His  reconciliation  with  his  sister  secured  to  him 
the  undivided  allegiance  of  all  the  members  and 
connexions  of  his  family,  and  enlisted  in  his  per- 
sonal interests  Bouillon,  Turenne   (whom  he  com- 
pelled the  Regent  to  pardon),  Marsillac,  and  other 
powerful  chiefs  of  the  feudal  party.     He  held  in 
his  hands  the  balance   between  the   contending 
factions  in  the  State,  and  it  was  evident  to  all  that 
the  scale  into  which  he  threw  his  sword  must  pre- 
ponderate. 

To  the  Government  his  support  was  absolutely 
essential  in  the  dangers  that  beset  it.  The  ex- 
uberant loyalty  that  greeted  the  return  of  the 
sovereigns  to  Paris  seemed  to  have  evaporated  in 
the  heat  and  tumult  of  the  long  summer  day. 
Madame  de  Chevreuse,  rendered  prudent  by  re- 
verses, but  still  preserving  her  political  fire  and 
address,  had  infused  new  life  into  the  Fronde,  and 
brought  it  under  the  control   of  her  intriguing 


9 

spirit.  Weaving  her  spells  around  the  feeble 
mind  of  Orleans,  she  gradually  detached  him  from 
Anne  of  Austria;  while  the  witcheries  of  her 
beautiful  and  profligate  daughter  held  fast  the 
Coadjutor  in  amorous  toils.  The  defection  of  the 
Lieutenant-General  could  only  be  supplied  by  a 
firm  alliance  with  Conde  ;  and  had  the  Prince/ 
following  in  the  footsteps  of  his  father,  steadily 
sustained  the  Regent  and  her  Minister,  there  was 
hardly  any  concession  which  he  might  not  have 
obtained  from  their  gratitude  or  necessities. 

Jt  was  also  open  to  him,  by  taking  his  stand 
with  Mole  on  the  Declaration  of  the  24th  of 
October,  to  which  he  had  twice  given  his  sanction, 
to  become  the  guardian  of  good  government,  and 
public  rights,  against  the  excesses  of  authority  and 
of  faction ;  and,  discarding  mere  personal  or  party 
aims,  to  guide  the  destinies  in  serving  the  highest 
interests  of  France.  This  would  have  been  the 
course  most  consonant  with  his  glory,  his  dignity, 
and    an    enlightened    appreciation    of    his    own 

advantage. 

It  was  possible  for  him,  as  a  third  alter- 
native, to  drive  Cardinal  Mazarin  from  the 
kingdom,  and  boldly  to  seize  ihe  reins  of  Govern- 
ment. This  was  the  course  urged  upon  him  by 
De  Retz.     Any  one  of  the  three  lines  of  policy, 

B  5 


10 


resolutely  and  consistently  pursued,  must  almost 
certa'nly  have  insured  to  him  for  many  years  a 
commanding    position  in    the    State.      But  his 
career  offers  a  memorable  example  of  the  per- 
nicious effect  of  early  and  dazzling  success,  even 
upon  a  nature  endowed  with  noble  qualities,  and 
with  the  rarest  intellectual  faculties.    His  splendid 
genius,  gifted  with  such  unerring  vision,  so  fruit- 
ful  of  rapid   and   daring   combinations  in   war, 
seemed  bewildered  and  stricken  with  sterility  in 
the  strife  of  poHtics.     It  became  the  sport  of  his 
capricious  passions  and  wayward  impulses ;  equally 
bereft  of  the  vivifying  light  of  patriotic  principles, 
and  of  the  resolute   sagacity  to  shape  out  and 
pursue  a  line  of  vulgar  ambition.     Listening  now 
to  his  sister  and  De  Retz,  now  to  the  Regent,  he 
veered  about  a  hundred  times  in  a  day,  in  a  state 
of  perplexity  and   vacillation   that  amused  and 
astonished  friends  and  foes. 

Madame  de  Longuevillo  was  unwearied  in  her 
efforts  to  draw  him  over  to  the  Fronde.  She  art- 
fully induced  him  to  test  the  sincerity  of  the 
Regent's  professions  by  claiming  the  fulfilment  of 
a  promise,  made  after  the  treaty  of  Ruel,  to  hand 
over  Pont  de  1' Arche,  the  key  of  Normandy,  to  his 
brother-in-law.  Anne  of  Austria  and  Mazarin 
both  declined  to  surrender  this  stronghold  to  the 


7 


^' 


11 

Governor  of  the  province,  for  reasons  of  State. 
The  Prince  pressed  his  suit  with  violence,  and  at 
length,  exasperated  by  repeated  refusals,  grossly 
insulted   the   Cardinal.     At   the   conclusion  of  a 
stormy  interview,  he  shook  his  fist  in  the  Minis- 
ter's face,   gave  him   a  fillip  on  the  cheek,  and 
rushed  from   the   room    shouting,    with  ironical 
laughter,  "  Adieu,   Mars.''      Intelligence  of  this 
unseemly   quarrel    soon  reached   the    Coadjutor, 
exalting  him  on  the  wings  of  hope  to  the  pinnacle 
of  triumphant  ambition .    The  darling  scheme,  over 
which  he  had  long  brooded,  of  a  coalition  of  great 
nobles  and  popular  magistrates,   headed  by  the 
hero  of  Rocroi  and  Lens  against  his  Italian  rival, 
was  about  at  length  to  assume  shape  and  consis- 
tency.     Hastening   to   the   Hotel  de   Cond^  he 
offered  the  Prince  the  support  of  the  Fronde,  and 
was  received  with  open  arms.    The  great  majority 
of  the  nobles  thronged  to  range  themselves  under 
the  most  briUiant  warrior  of  the  age ;  and  Orleans, 
wheedled  by  Madame  de  Chevreuse,  gave  a  feeble 
countenance  to  the  new  confederacy.     Mazarin's 
downfall  seemed  assured.     The  Palais  Royal  was 
deserted,  and  the  Regent  was  devoured  by  vex- 
ation and  resentment.     But  she  knew  the  Prince 
better  than  he  knew  himself,  and,  fortified  by  a 
deep  purpose  of  ultimately  vindicating  the  royal 


^ 


12 

authority,  she  had  the  art  to  dissemble  the  hatred 
with  which  his  conduct  inspired  her.  Sending 
for  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  sh,e  commissioned  him  to 
offer  Conde  Pont  de  TArche  for  his  brother-in- 
law,  and  to  propose  a  conference  for  the  complete 
arrangement  of  the  Princess  differences  with  her 

Minister. 

Conde  had  already  committed  himself  to  the 
Coadjutor,  and  had  allowed  the  Prelate  to  com : 
promise  himself  and  his  friends  by  a  hostile 
attitude  towards  the  Government.  But  his 
pride  was  soothed  by  the  submission  of  Anne 
of  Austria  and  the  penitent  pleadings  of  the  Car- 
dinal; and  his  instinctive  aversion  from  the 
Fronde,  a  conspiracy,  as  he  termed  it,  of  "  petti- 
coats and  alcoves,"  was  not  lessened  by  familiar 
intercourse  with  its  chiefs.  Without  consulting 
his  new  allies,  or  paying  the  slightest  regard  to 
their  interests,  he  closed  with  the  offers  of  the 
Eegent.  Lenet,  a  councillor  of  the  Parliament  of 
Dijon,  the  able  and  faithful  partizan  of  the  House 
of  Conde,  and  La  Riviere,  as  representative  of 
the  Duke  of  Orleans,  who  had  assumed  the  office 
of  mediator,  conducted  the  negotiations  with 
Mazarin,  who  was  not  in  a  position  to  resist  any 
demand.  In  a  few  hours  a  secret  treaty  was 
drawn   up   and   signed  by    the  Regent,   Conde, 


13 

Mazarin,  and  La   Riviere.      In  consideration  of 
frank  and  thorough  co-operation  with  the  Court, 
the  Prince  was  not  only  invested  with  the  entire 
control   and  patronage  of    the   army,   but    was 
accorded  a  veto  on  all  civil  or  ecclesiastical  appoint- 
ments, and  on  the  matrimonial  alHances  which 
the  Cardinal  might   desire   for  his  nieces.     The 
conditions  of  this  agreement  were  carefully  con- 
cealed from  Orleans,  whose  military  functions  as 
Lieutenant- General  of  the  kingdom  it  transferred 
to  his  cousin ;  La  Riviere,  in  his  anxiety  to  secure 
for  himself  the  next  nomination  of  the  Crown  to  a 
seat  in  the  conclave,  not  having  scrupled  to  betray 
the  interests  of  his  too-confiding  master.     When 
De  Retz  and  the  Marquis  of  Noirmoutier,  arrived 
by  appointment  at  the  Hotel  de  Conde  to   ex- 
change, on  the  part  of    the  Fronde,  the  formal 
ratifications  of  its  new  alliance  with  the  Prince, 
they  gathered    with    dismay,  from    his    embar- 
rassed apologies,  that  he  had  used  them  to  serve 
his  ends  and    then  abandoned  them.     Madame 
de  Longueville,  notwithstanding  the  cession  of 
Pont  de  TArche  to  her  husband,  did  not  spare 
angry  reproaches  for  the    inconstancy    of    her 
brother.      Her  disappointment,  however,  passed 
like  a  summer  cloud   over  their  affectionate  re- 
lations.     But   although   the   Coadjutor  and  his 


I  • 


14 

friends  professed  to  rejoice  at  having  been  instru- 
mental in  obtaining  for  Cond^  satisfaction  for  his 
grievances,  a  bitter  sense  of  having  been  duped 
and  cast  aside  rankled  in  their  minds,  and  pre- 
pared a  signal  retribution  for  his  perfidy. 

Anne  of  Austria  had  thus,  by  humiliating 
sacrifices,  dissolved  the  only  combination  she 
would  have  been  unable  to  resist.  But  she  found 
Conde's  friendship  the  most  intolerable  oppres- 
sion. His  exactions  for  himself  or  his  adherents 
threatened  to  reduce  the  power  of  the  Crown  to 
the  merest  shadow.  And  his  exactions  were  less 
offensive  than  the  manner  in  which  he  enforced 
them.  His  temper,  naturally  aspiring  and 
haughty,  had  become  inflamed  by  uninterrupted 
prosperity  to  an  extravagant  pitch  of  pride  ;  and 
the  unbridled  arrogance  that  foimd  a  distempered 
delight  in  provoking  quarrels,  raised  up  enemies 
against  him  in  every  quarter.  The  Prince  of 
Marsillac  having  taken  a  fancy  to  claim  the 
privilege  of  a  tabouret  at  Court  for  his  wife — per- 
haps in  order  to  make  amends  to  her  for  his 
infidelities — Conde  supported  his  pretensions  with 
such  overbearing  vehemence  that  the  great  body  of 
the  nobles,  throwing  themselves  into  the  question  of 
a  petty  distinction  with  as  much  ardour  as  if  the 
very  existence  of  their  order  was  at  stake^  protested 


15 

against  the  claim  in  tumultuous  meetings,  which 
became  a  serious  peril  to  the  Government.    Some 
deputies  despatched  by  the  Parliament  of  Bordeaux 
to  complain  of  the  unjust  proceedings  of  the  Duke 
of  Epemon,  using  some  expression  that  grated  on 
Conde's  ear,  he  threatened  to  cane  them'to  death. 
To  the  ParUament  and  people  he  represented  the 
imperious   insolence  of  military  force.      In  the 
mere  wantonness  of  his  presumptuous  humour,  he 
planted  in  Anne  of  Austria's  own  bosom  the  sting 
of  an  insult  which  it  would  be  hardly  in  the  nature 
of  the  meekest  and  lowliest  of  women  to  forgive. 
The  Regent  still  retained  much  of  her  old  fond- 
ness for  admiration,  and  the  younger  courtiers  were 
accustomed  to  do  homage  to  her  beauty  in  piteous 
sighs,  and  in  poetic  effusions  breathing  the  ardour 
of  a   consuming   passion  discreetly  tempered  by 
despair.     One  of  the  wits  most  in  her  favour,  the 
Uttle  Marquis   of    Jarze,   half-crazed  by   vanity 
and  the  approving  smiles  with  which  his  mistress 
rewarded  his   sallies,  conceived  the  idea  that  she 
was  in  love   with  him.    Revealing   his  good  for- 
tune in  confidence  to  Conde,  he  offered  to  supplant 
Mazarin  in  return  for  the  Prince's  friendship. 
Cond6,  though  highly   amused  at  the  little  Mar- 
quis's self-conceit,  promised  secresy,  and  accepted 
his  services ;  and  then,  impelled  by  the  spirit  of 


16 


mischief  which  possessed  him  at  this  period/  pub- 
licly flouted  the  Cardinal  upon  the  subject  of  the 
Regent's  inconstancy.  Anne  of  Austria  at  first 
treated  the  matter  with  ridicule.  At  lengthy  irritated 
by  her  Minister's  evident  discomposure,  and  by  the 
irreverent  jests  of  his  tormentor,  she  drove  her 
infatuated  adorer  from  her  presence,  with  oppro- 
brious epithets  that  made  his  blood  tingle  with 
shame,  and  deprived  him  of  his  lucrative  appoint- 
ment of  captain  of  her  guards.  The  crestfallen 
Jarze  resorted  for  consolation  to  Conde,  who 
after  laughing  heartily  at  his  victim's  discomfiture, 
had  the  audacity  to  pass  on  the  Regent  the  unpar- 
donable affront  of  insisting  that  her  discarded 
admirer  should  be  reinstated  in  his  post. 

Mazarin  was  the  favourite  butt  of  Condi's  biting 
sarcasms,  the  object  on  which  he  never  tired 
heaping  contumely.  The  wily  Italian,  in  whom 
the  meekness  of  the  dove  was  tinctured  in  no 
inconsiderable  degree  with  the  guile  of  the  ser- 
pent, bore  the  scoffs  and  jeers  of  the  Prince  with 
well-simulated  patience.  Nevertheless  he  was 
secretly  contriving  a  terrible  revenge.  The 
Regent  and  he  were  goaded  by  indignities,  and 
even. by  the  instinct  of  self-preservation,  to  crush 
their  tyrant.  A  necessary  step  towards  this  end 
was  to  isolate  the  Prince  completely,  and  particu- 


# 


17 

larly  to  raise  up  an  impassable  barrier  between 
him  and  the  Fronde.  They  were  seasonably 
aided  in  their  designs  by  one  of  those  extra- 
ordinary impostures  characteristic  of  the  time, 
which  nearly  all  sprang  in  grotesque  complete- 
ness from  the  teeming  brain  of  the  Coadjutor. 

After  the  peace  of  Ruel  the  Government,  with 
the  consent  of  the  Parliament,  had  declared  itself 
bankrupt,  and  postponed,  for  a  year,  payment  of 
the  interest  on  a  loan  which  had  been  chiefly  sub- 
scribed by  the  citizens  of  Paris.    The  fundholders 
submitted  murmuringly ;    but  the   Government 
breaking  faith  with  them  again,  when  the  deferred 
payments  fell  due,  they  were  loud  in  their  com- 
plaints, and    elected  representatives,   who   were 
termed  Syndics,  to  press  their  claims.     The  most 
notable  of  the  Syndics  was  Guy  Joly,  an  intimate 
friend  of  De  Retz,  a  physician,  wit,  and  dema- 
gogue, whose  amusing  memoirs,  erudite  and  flip- 
pant, reveal  much  of    the  secret  intrigue,   and 
reflect    in    vivid   colours    the     popular    feeling 
of    the    time.       The    Coadjutor,   eager  to   em- 
barrass    the     Court     and     Mole,     who      now 
strenuously  laboured    to  smooth  the   difficulties 
of    the    Administration,     fomented    the    rising 
sedition.      In    order    to  rouse  the    people    to 
arms,  he  concocted  an  impudent  plot  in  which 


18 

Joly  was  the  chief  actor.  The  Syndic,  attired  in 
a  coat  thickly  padded  and  tested  to  be  bullet-proof, 
came  forth  for  an  airing  on  Cours  la  Reine,  the 
fashionable  promenade.  A  pistol  shot  was  fired 
into  his  coach  ;  but  a  party  of  his  friends,  who, 
by  a  fortunate  coincidence,  were  at  hand,  rushed 
to  his  rescue ;  and  a  wound  on  his  shoulder,  which 
had  been  carefully  inflicted  the  day  before,  was 
dressed  by  a  sympathising  surgeon.  In  a  few 
hours  all  Paris  rang  with  the  narrow  escape  of 
their  champion  from  the  assassins  of  the  Court, 
and  the  public  excitement  was  at  fever  heat. 
Mazarin  promptly  saw  and  seized  the  opportunity 
of  turning  the  delusion  of  the  citizens  to  ad- 
vantage. 

The  Regent  informed  Cond6,  with  looks  arid 
tones  betraying  grave  anxiety,  that  the  Cardinal 
had  received  intelligence  of  a  conspiracy  to  murder 
him,  as  he  went  to  sup  with  the  Duke  of  Gram- 
mont,  in  revenge  for  the  attack  on  the  Syndic. 
The  Prince,  always  brave,  even  to  rashness,  de- 
clared his  resolution  to  face  the  danger.  Yielding, 
however,  to  Anne's  entreaties,  he  agreed  to  prove 
it  by  sending  his  coach  with  the  blinds  drawn 
down,  but  accompanied  by  his  usual  retinue,  across 
the  Pont  Neuf .  When  the  equipage  appeared  on 
the  bridge,  the  Marquis  of  Bouillaye,  quondam 


19 

General  of  the  Cavalry  of  the  portes  cochereSy  still 
in  outward  seeming  a  noisy  Frondeur,  in  reality  a 
secret  agent  of  Mazarin,  galloping  up  with  an 
armed  band,  searched  it,  killed  one  of  the  attend- 
ants,  and  then  fled  the  kingdom.     While  the 
Prince's  mind  was  a  prey  to  the  angry  suspicions 
suggested  by  the  antecedents  of  the  mad-cap 
Marquis,  the  Cardinal  produced  fabricated  evi- 
dence that  Bomllaye  had  been  the  instrument  of 
De  Retz  and  Beaufort.     Cond^  fell  blindly  into 
the  snare.     Spuming  the  repeated  solicitations  of 
the  maligned  noblemen  for  a  hearing  in  their  own 
defence,  he  preferred  against  them,  in  the  High 
Court,  a  charge  of  assassination,  which  the  law 
officers  of  the  Crown  had  instructions  to  press. 
Political  morality  was  at  so  low  an  ebb  that  the 
accusation  obtained  general  credence.     The  ad- 
herents of  the  accused,  dismayed  by  the  fierce 
wrath  of  the  Prince,  and  the  alleged  strength  of 
the  proofs  in  possession  of  the  Government,  fell 
from  them.     Beaufort,  in  despair,  proposed  to  fly 
from  Paris ;  but  the  Coadjutor,  whose  clear  intel- 
lect was  never  clouded  by  fear,  attended  in  his 
place  to  confront  his  traducers.     He  found  him- 
self shunned  by  all  as  if  he  were  stricken  with  the 
plague;  but  he  was  sustained,  not  only  by  the 
consciousness  of  innocence,  but  by  the  possession 


\ 


20 


of  a  document  secretly  forwarded  to  him,  as  he 
afterwards  discovered,  by  order  of  the  Eegent, 
which  set  forth,  not  only  the  heads  of  the  indict- 
ment about  to  be  laid  by  the  Attorney  General, 
but  also  the  nature  of  the  evidence  on  which  it 
rested.       To    the    unscrupulous     state-craft    of 
Mazarin,  France  owed  the  organization  of  a  body 
of  official  spies,  a  baneful  legacy  of  his  rule,  which 
long  remained  an  odious  feature  in  the  system  of 
French  police.     These  spies  were  wretches  con- 
victed   of   the  most  atrocious   crimes,  to   whom 
immunity  and    protection    were    guaranteed  in 
return  for  infamous  services.      Some   of  them 
now  were  the  witnesses  for  the  Crown.      When 
De    Eetz,   with    the  rhetorical    skill    of    which 
he  was  a  master,   exposed    the  inherent  impro- 
babilities   of    the   alleged   conspiracy,  and  then 
sketched  the  past  lives   and  present  functions 
of    the    miscreants,    stained    with    the    darkest 
hues  of  guilt,  upon  whose  unsupported  testimony 
it  was  sought  to  convict  the  Coadjutor  Archbishop 
of  Paris,  and  the  grandson  of  Henry  IV.,  of  a 
detestable    crime,    indignation    and    amazement 
seized  the   Chamber.     A   unanimous   decree   of 
acquittal  was  only  averted  by  the  declarations  of 
the  First  President  and  the  law  officers  that  more 
trustworthy  evidence  was  forthcoming. 


21 

Conde  was  as  much  taken  ab^k  as  any  one  by 
the  revelations  reflecting  on  the  chara^jter  of  the 
Crown  witnesses.     False  pride,  however,  impelled 
Hm  to  pursue  his  suit,  although  he  showed  his  sense 
of  its  injustice  by  offering,  if  the  Coadjutor  would, 
as  a  mark  of  deference  to  him,  retire  from  Paris 
for  three  months,  to  acknowledge  the  prelate's 
innocence.      But  De  Retz,  now  zealously  cham- 
pioned by  the  whole  force  of  the  Fronde,  flung 
back  insult  for  insult,  and  defiance  for  defiance ; 
and  the  rage  of  the  hostile  factions  threatened 
every  moment  to  deluge  Paris  with  blood.   While 
Conde,  delivered  up  by  his  headstrong  passions,  a 
helpless  victim  to  Mazarines  craft,  opened  an  im- 
passable gulf  of  hatred  between  himself  and  the 
Fronde,  he  continued  with  reckless  arrogance  to 
provoke  the  vengeance  of  the  Court.     At  the 
moment  when  his  quarrel  with  the  Coadjutor  and 
Beaufort  was  charged  with  the  deadliest  rancour, 
a  daring  outrage  upon  the  royal  authority  filled 
up  to  overflowing  the  measure  of  his  offences 

against  the  Regent. 

The  most  splendid  prize  in  the  matrimonial 
market  of  France,  at  this  time,  was  the  Duke  of 
RicheHeu,  the  grand  nephew  and  inheritor  of  the 
peerage  and  the  enormous  wealth  of  the  Great 
Minister ;  a  timid,  impressionable  youth  of  nine- 


22 

teen  or  twenty,  who  lived  at  Kuel  under  tlie  strict 
tutelage  of  his  strong-willed  aunt,  the  Duchess  of 
Aiguillon.     The  Duchess,  although  of  irreproach- 
able   life    herself,   had    affianced  her    ward    to 
Mademoiselle  de  Chevreuse.      Among  her  most 
intimate     friends    was    Madame    de     Pons,    a 
clever  and  charming  widow   of  thirty,   sister  to 
Mdlle.   Vigean,  who   had  been   the  object  and 
victim   of   Conde's   capricious   fancy.     The  irre- 
gular features  and  the  bewitching  graces  of  person 
and  manner  of  Madame   de   Pons  were  happily 
eignified  in  her  soubriquet  of  the  "  ugly  Venus/' 
The  young  Duke  found  himself  enslaved  by  the 
covert  arts  of  this  fascinating  widow ;    but  the 
reverential  awe  with  which  he  regarded  his  aunt, 
and  the  circumstance  that  her  consent  and  that  of 
the  Regent  were  necessary  for  the  vahdity  of  a 
marriage,  seemed  to  oppose  an  insuperable  barrier 
to  the  wishes  of  the  lovers.      In  this  difficulty 
Madame  de  Pons  had  recourse  to  the  Duchess  of 
Longueville.      Of    the  numerous   dignities    be- 
queathed by  the  late  Cardinal  to  his  nephew  the 
most  important  was  that  of  Governor  of  Havre  de 
Grace,  the  strongest  fortress  in  France.      As  it 
was  of  the  highest  moment  to  the  House  of  Cond^ 
that  this  great  stronghold  should  pass  from  the 
keeping  of  the  Duchess  of  Aiguillon,  a  devoted 


23 


servant  of  the  Regent,  to  the  keeping  of  one  of  its 
own  adherents,  Madame  de  LongueviUe  warmly 
espoused  the  projects  of  her  friend.    At  her  insti- 
gation, Conde  invited  his  young  kinsman  to  pass 
the  day  with  him  at  a  country  house  near  Paris. 
Madame  de  Pons  happening,  by  the  merest  accident, 
to  arrive  there  at  the  same  time,  the  authority  of 
the  Prince,  who  took  the  whole  responsibihty  on 
himself,  and  the  charms  of  his  mistress,  overcame 
Richelieu's  scruples.  The  marriage  was  celebrated 
by  Condi's  private  chaplain,  and  the  newly  wedded 
pair  started  off,  without  a  moment's  delay, to  take 
possession  of  Havre.     Cond6  also  despatched  an 
officer  of  his  own  to  the  same  destination,  with  in- 
structions, should  any  messenger  of  the  Regent, 
outstripping  the  dilatory  progress  of  the  lovers, 
reach  the  fortress  before  them,  to  fling  him  into 
the  sea  and  burn  his  despatches. 

The  same  afternoon  the  Prince  returned  to 
Paris,  and  afterwards  presented  himself,  beaming 
with  self-satisfaction,  at  the  Regent's  evening 
lev6e.  Anne  of  Austria  was  already  aware  of 
his  morning's  work,  Richelieu  having  snatched 
a  moment  to  write  a  few  penitent  lines  to  his 
aunt.  Smothering  her  resentment,  she  coldly 
remarked  to  the  Prince,  that  the  marriage  would 
probably  be  annulled  on  account  of  its  illegality. 


24 

He  replied,  insolently,  that  a  marriage  contracted 
in  his  presence  was  indissoluble.  Anne  then  retired 
to  her  little  grey  chamber,  consumed  by  vexa- 
tion.    As  she   sat  brooding   over  the   means  of 
delivering  herself  from  the  daily  humiliations  that 
stung    her    proud   spirit   to    madness,    Madame 
d'Aiguillon  rushed  into  the  room,  and  Ringing 
herself  at   her    feet    implored    justice.     Shortly 
afterwards  Madame  de   Chevreuse  arrived,  and, 
with  flashing  eyes,  demanded  vengeance  for  the 
injury  offered  to  her  daughter.     The  two  ladies 
urged  the  Regent  to  arrest  Conde,  and  Madame 
de  Chevreuse  tendered  the  vigorous  support  of  the 
Fronde.     The  practicability  of  freeing  themselves 
from  the  yoke  of  their  tyrant,  by  means  of  an 
alliance  with  the  Coadjutor  and  his  party,  had  of 
late  been  anxiously  pondered  by  the  Regent   and 
Cardinal    Mazarin.      Anne,    therefore,    joyfully 
grasped   at  the  offer  of  her  old  friend,  and  in- 
trusted  her  with  a  note  inviting  De  Retz  to  a  secret 
interview.     On  the  following  night  the  Coadjutor, 
in  the  dress  of  a  cavaHer,  was  introduced  into  the 
Palace    by  a    private    entrance,    and    remained 
closeted  for  some  hours  with  the  Regent  and  the 
Cardinal.     The  fiery  prelate  panted  for  revenge 
on  the  false  friend  who  assailed  his  honour  and  his 
life  with  such  unjust  virulence.     But  his  passions 


25 


f 


did  not  render  him  forgetful  of  his  own  interests, 
or  those  of  his  friends.  A  Cardinals  hat  for 
himself,  the  post  of  High  Admiral  of  France  for 
the  Duke  of  Vendome,  with  the  reversion  to  the 
Duke  of  Beaufort,  the  restoration  of  Madame 
de  Chevreuse's  old  lover  Chateauneuf  to  his  for- 
feited office  of  Keeper  of  the  Seals,  a  large  sum 
of  money  for  the  ever-needy  Madame  de 
Montbazon,  and  other  favours  for  less  prominent 
adherents  of  the  Fronde,  were  gladly  conceded  as 
the  price  of  his  assistance.  On  these  terms  he 
pledged  to  the  Regent  his  loyal  co-operation  with 
Mazarin  for  the  overthrow  of  their  common 
oppressor. 

To  accomphsh  this  aim  in  safety  required  all  the 
skill  of  the  two  deepest  political  schemers  of  the 
age.  The  great  power  of  Cond^,  who  governed 
by  himself  or  his  adherents  one-half  of  France, 
and  who  possessed  the  entire  control  of  the  army ; 
the  dazzHng  prestige  that  invested  him  ;  the  vast 
following  of  young  nobles,  whose  swords  were 
ever  ready  to  leap  forth  in  defence  of  their  heroic 
chief ;  and  his  own  daring  genius,  which,  always  at 
the  touch  of  danger,  flashed  out  in  its  native 
splendour,  rendered  their  enterprise  one  of  extra- 
ordinary danger.  Night  after  night  the  Coad- 
jutor went  to  the  Palais   Royal  in  disguise,  to 

VOL.   II.  c 


26 

confer  with  tlie  Minister.     More  than  one  warn- 
ing  of  these  mysterious  meetings,  veiled  though 
they  were  by  ingenious  precautions,  reached  the 
Prince.     But  his  haughty  confidence  in  himself, 
his  profound  contempt  for  Mazarin,  and  the  im- 
penetrable  duplicity  of   the   Cardinal,  effectually 
bhnded  him  to  his  peril.     Besides,  he  had  taken 
measures  which  he  considered  sufficient  to  render 
him  secure  of  timely  information,  in  the  event  of 
the  Court  meditating  any  serious  project  agamst 
his  liberty.     He  knew  that  the  Begent  could  not 
venture  to  arrest  him   without  the  consent  of  the 
Lieutenant-General    of  the  reahn ;     and  it  was 
notorious  that   Orleans  had  no  secrets  from  the 
AhU  la  Riviere.     Conde  had  attached  this  aspir- 
inff  ecclesiastic  to  his  interests  by  ceding  to  him 
the  nomination  to  the  dignity  of  Cardinal,  which 
had  been  granted  to  the  Prince  of  Conti;  and  as 
the  Abbe  was  bound  to   his  master  by  an  oath  of 
secresy,  Cond^  persuaded  Orleans  to  cancel  the 
obligations  in  all  matters  relating  to  himseH.    The 
reassuring  reports  of  his  new  ally  contributed  to 
throw  him  off  his  guard,  and  to  make  him  deaf  to 
the  entreaties  of  his  mother,  sister,  and  the  keen- 
sighted  Mar  sillac,  that  he  would  abstain  from  attend- 

ing  the  meetings  of  the  Council  of  State.     But  he 
was  leaning  on  a  broken  reed ;  La  Riviere  was  no 


27 


longer  in  a  position  to  do  him  service.  The  Regent 
had  revealed  to  Madame  de  Chevreuse  the  parti- 
culars of  the  secret  treaty  concluded  with  Conde. 
The  Duchess  used  the  information  to  detach  the 
affections  of  Orleans,  already  somewhat  alienated 
by  the  Abba's  want  of  zeal  in  furthering  his  at- 
tempts on  the  chastity  of  one  of  his  wife^s  Maids 
of  Honour,  from  the  faithless  favourite.  Left 
without  protection,  Gaston  yielded  to  the  energetic 
pressure  of  his  sister-in-law  and  the  cajolery  of 
the  Duchess,  and  gave  an  unwilling  assent  to  the 
arrest  of  his  cousins. 

It  was  at  length  determined  in  midnight  con- 
clave to  seize  Conde,  Conti,  and  Longueville,  at  a 
sitting  of  the  Council  of  State,  specially  convened 
for  the  consideration  of  a  subject  in  which  they 
were  all  interested.  On  the  morning  of  the 
appointed  day,  the  project  had  almost  been 
frustrated  by  a  curious  accident.  Conde,  contrary 
to  his  custom,  perhaps  somewhat  uneasy  at  the 
rumours  which  reached  him,  made  an  early  call  at 
the  Palace,  and  suddenly  entered  the  Cardinals 
cabinet,  while  Lyonne,  Under  Secretary  of  State, 
was  making  out  the  order  for  his  arrest.  Mazarin, 
however,  received  his  visitor  with  an  unruffled  mien, 
and  having  distracted  his  attention  to  indifferent 
subjects  until  Lyonne  had  shuffled  away  the  danger- 

c  2 


11  I 


m 


28 

ons  document  amongst  some  other  papers,  is  said 
to  have  played  ofi  on  his  unsuspecting  yictmi  a 
practical  joke,  the  sly  maUce  of  ^hich  was  emi- 
nently characteristic.  When  the  Prince  was  about 
to  leave,  the  Cardinal,  suddenly  assummg  a  joyous 
air    as  if   he    had  just    recollected    somethmg 
agreeable,  mentioned  that  the  police  had  tracked 
t^  an  obscure  lurking-place  a  principal  agent  m 
the  late  plot  for  his  assassination.  It  was  expected, 
Mazarin    added,  that   as  this  man   could  make 
revelations  of  a  character  to  criminate  the  Fronde 
leaders,  a  rescue  would  be  attempted;  it  seemed 
advisable,  therefore,  that   the  Prince  should  sign 
an  order  for  a  body  of  troops  to  escort  prisoners 
to  the  fortress  of  Vincennes.     Conde,  bummg 
with  still  unslaked  animosity  against  De  Retz  and 
Beaufort,  gave  the  order  with  alacrity,  and  thus 
became  the  unconscious   instrument  of  his  own 

captivity.  . 

In   the  afternoon  the  three  brothers  arrived 

together  at  the  Palais  Royal  to  attend  the  Council 

of  State,  while  their  mother  was  closeted  with  the 

Re<^ent.  These  ladies  had  been  for  more  than  twenty 

yeMS  on  a  footing  of  intimate  affection ;  and  now, 

alarmed  by  the  suspicions  afloat,  the  old  Princess 

had  come  to  the  Palace,  expecting  that  if  danger 

threatened  her  children,  she  would  read  some 


ill 


29 

indication  of  it  in  the  demeanour  of  her  old  friend. 
But  Anne  of  Austria,  schooled  in  many  trials,  was 
a  mistress  of  dissimulation.      She  entered  with 
easy  famniarity  into  a  confidential  conversation 
with  the  Princess,  dismissing  her  with  an  afiec- 
tionate  adieu,  only  when  the  time  was  ripe  for  an 
act  of  vengeance  that  would  crush  her  and  her 
whole  family.      Cond^  had  hardly  entered  the 
CouncH  Chamber  when  Guitant,  captain  of  the 
Regent's  Guards,  made  his  appearance.  The  Prince 
had  a  strong  regard  for  the  staunch  old  soldier, 
and,  thinking  that  he  came  to  solicit  some  favour, 
turned  towards  him  with  a  gracious  air;  where- 
upon Guitant  whispered  the  nature  of  his  errand. 
Condfe,  amazed  and  indignant,  cried  out  to  his 
brothers,  "We  are  arrested  !"  and  demanded  to 
see  the  Regent.     But  an  interview  being  denied, 
he   submitted  with  dignity  to  his  fate.      Conti 
wept  bitterly,  and    LongueviUe's   agitation  de- 
prived him  of    speech,   and   almost   of    motion. 
The  prisoners  were  taken  by  a  dark  passage  to  the 
gardens  of    the   Palace.      "THs,"   said   Cond^ 
suspiciously,  "  strongly  savours  of  the  States  of 
Blois."      "No,  monseigneur,"  replied   Gmtant; 
"  if  that  were  the  case  I  should  not  be  concerned 
in  it"     At  a  private  door,  opening  from  the 
Gardens  into  the  Rue  RicheHeu,  one  of  the  royal 


30 


carriages,  surrounded  by  the  escort  Conde  had 
ordered  out,  was  in  attendance.  The  faces  of  some 
of  the   soldiers,  his  old   comrades  in  arms,   were 
famihar  to  him,  and,  perhaps,  with  a  view  of  test- 
ing their  devotion  to  their  favourite  leader,   he 
said,  "  This,  my  friends,  is  not  the  Battle  of  Lens/' 
But  the  soldiers,  though  expressing  in  their  coun- 
tenances vivid  emotions  of  grief  and  sympathy, 
were  obedient  to  discipline,   and   the  cavalcade 
started  at  a  rapid  pace  for  Vincennes.      On  the 
road  the  breaking  down  of  the  coach  in  the  pitchy 
darkness  of  a  January  evening  seemed  to  afford 
the  prisoners  a  chance  of  escape,  but  it  was  found 
impossible  to  corrupt  or  elude  the  stem  vigilance 
of  Guitant.     During  the  journey,  Conde  displayed 
a  calm  intrepidity  which  contrasted  strongly  with 
the  abject  bearing   of  his  companions;    and  on 
arriving  at  Vincennes,  finding  that,  through  dread 
of  awakening  suspicion,  no  preparation  had  been 
•  made  for  his  reception,  he  flung  himself  on  the  floor 
of  his  chamber  and  passed  twelve  hours  in  unbroken 
sleep.    Conti  and  Longueville,  shivering  from  fear 
or  fever,  watched  through  the  dreary  night  in 
profound  despair. 

In  Paris,  on  the  report  of  their  hero's  arrest,  a 
body  of  young  noblemen,  led  by  the  Duke  of 
Rohan  and  the  Count  of  Boutteville,  assailed  the 


31 

Convent  of  Valde  Grace  in  order  to  obtain  posses- 
sion  of  Mazarin's  nieces,  who  resided  there ;  and 
afterwards  attempted  to  raise  a  popular  msurrec- 
tionby  proclaiming  that  the  Duke   of  Beaufort 
had  been  again  incarcerated  at  Vincennes.  But  the 
Cardinal  had  provided  for  the  safety  of  his  young 
kinswomenby  removing  them  to  the  Palais  Roya  ; 
and  De  R^tz  promptly  allayed  the  nsmg  tumult 
in  the  streets  by  sendingforthBeaufort  to  parade 
the  town  on  horseback,  decorated  with  his  well- 
known  white  plume.    When  the  real  facts  became 
known  the  public  anger  gave  place  to  exultation. 
The  streets  rang  with  the  sounds  of  rejoicing  and 
the  sky    was   red  with  the    glare  of    bonfires, 
courtier    and     citizen     uniting     with     emubus 
enthusiasm  to    celebrate    the    downfall    of   that 
insolent  despotism  which  had  been  the  object  of 
their  common  hatred  and  fear.     Orleans  on  re 
covering  from  the  agony  of  terror  into  which  the 
fierce  determination  with  which  the  Regent  wrung 
from  him  a  scared  consent  to  Conde's  impnson- 
n.ent,  had  thrown  him,  and  being  apprised  of  her 
success,    whistled    carelessly,    and    said,       ihe 
K.gent  has  made  a  good  haul  of  the  net-she  has 
captured  a  fox,  a  monkey,  and  a  lion." 


32 


CHAPTEE    II. 


The  bold  and  skUful  stroke  of  the  Government,  in 
arresting  Cond^  and  his  brothers,  exposed  it  ta 
two  formidable  dangers — a  hostile  decree  of  the 
Parliament  of  Paris  in  vindication  of  the  violated 
Declaration  of  October,  and  an   armed  revolt  of 
the  nimierous  and  powerful  adherents  of  the  im- 
prisoned Princes  throughout  the  provinces.  From 
the  former  peril  it  was  saved  by  its  alliance  with 
the  Coadjutor.     The  partizans  of  the   Court  and 
of  the  Fronde   cordially   uniting  their  forces,  the 
High  Court  sanctioned,  by  an  immense  majority, 
the  illegal  proceeding  of  the  Regent  as  an  excep- 
tional act,  imperatively  demanded  by  the  public 
welfare.     Almost  alone,  the  First  President  Mole, 
whose   clear,  firm  mind,  unshaken  by   gusts  of 
passions  and  unwarped  by  the  sophistries  of  state- 
craft, remained  ever  true  to  the  principles  of 
justice,  stood  forth  as  the  champion  of  the  con- 


I 


33 

stitution,  of  which  he  was  the  principal  author 
But  his  voice  was  drowned  in  the  tumult  of 
popular  delirium,  and  he  was  only  able  to  ofier  by 
his  sad  and  stern  aspect,  among  the  joyous  crowds 
that  thronged  the  Palais  Royal,  a  mute  protest 
acrainst  the  abuse  of  the  royal  prerogative.  It  is 
in  Prance  especially  that  the  French  proverb  is 
true   "  Nothing  succeeds  like  success." 

The  Government  was  not  equally  fortunate  m 
its  attempts   to   avert  a  civil  war,  by  seizmg  the 
persons    of     Conde's    leading     adherents    then 
Assembled  in  Paris.     A  feeling  of  shame,  mingled 
perhaps  with  contempt,  restrained  the  Regent  and 
Lr  minister  from  dealing  harshly  with  the  two 
Princesses  of  Conde,  the  Dowager,  Anne  of  Aus- 
tria's old  and  tried  friend,  the  younger,  niece  of 
Mazarin's  great  benefactor.     The  sorrowing  ladies 
were  allowed   to   retire  with  the  little  Duke  of 
Enghien  to  Chantilly.  But  every  precaution  which 
policy  and  vengeance  suggested  was  used  to  insure 
the  capture  of  Madame  de  Longueville  andthemili- 
tary  chiefs.     All  of  them,  however,  having  timdy 
intLation   of  their   danger,   contrived  to   elude 
pursuit.     Bouillon  and  his  brother  T^e,  dis- 
Rising  themselves  as  boatmen,  escaped  down  the 
iXeLthe  darkness  of  the  nighty  The  Duke 

repaired  to  his  estates  in  Auvergne.    Turenne  took 


34 


refuge  in  Conde's  frontier  town  of  Stenay,  wliere 
lie  raised  the  standard  of  revolt  in  the  name  of 
the  imprisoned  Princes.  The  Count  of  Boutteville, 
a  young  cadet  of  the  House  of  Montmorenci, 
deformed  in  person  and  of  depraved  life,  but 
already  exhibiting  promise  of  the  military  genius 
which  long  afterwards  made  all  Europe  ring  with 
the  renown  of  the  Marshal  Duke  of  Luxembourg, 
fled  to  Burgundy,  and  called  that  province  to  arms. 
The  Regent  was  particularly  eager  to  secure  the 
person  of  Madame  de  Longueville,  whose  insolent 
rivalry  during  the  siege  of  Paris,  and  the  subse- 
quent dictatorship  of  Cond^,  had  provoked  her 
deepest  resentment.  Upon  the  arrest  of  her 
husband  and  her  brothers,  the  Duchess  received  a 
message  commanding  her  instant  attendance  at 
the  Palais  Royal.  She  feigned  comphance,  and 
with  the  assistance  of  her  friend,  the  Princess 
Palatine,  found  a  temporary  retreat  at  a  mean 
house  in  the  suburbs.  In  the  night  the  Prince  of 
Marsillac  carried  her  off  into  Normandy,  of  which 
province  Longueville  was  governor.  But  Cond^^s 
imprisonment  was  a  blow  so  sudden  and  unex- 
pected, that  it  left  his  party  completely  paralyzed; 
and  before  the  scattered  leaders  had  time  to 
organize  their  forces,  or  frame  any  connected 
scheme  of    resistance^    the   rapid  and   vigorous 


35 

measures  of  the  Oovemment  completed  their  dis- 
comfiture. 

The    periods   of    internal    convulsion    which 
chequer  the  progress  of  even  the  most  prosperous 
nations,  resemble  those  bleak  and  dismal  wastes 
that  occasionaUy  sadden  the  traveller's  eye  amidst 
a  rich  expanse  of  blooming  landscapes.     History 
reads  us  no  more  emphatic  lesson,  than  that  stable 
institutions   are  absolutely  essential  to  the  well- 
being  of  a  State.     It  repeats  in  every  age  its 
mournful  warning,  that  anarchy  is  a  scourge  armed 
with  every  variety  of  evil,  moral,  intellectual  and 
physical;    destroying   the  legitimate   supremacy 
of    religion    and     of    reason;     enthroning    the 
basest     passions     on     the     eternal      seat     of 
justice;    rending    the    most   sacred    and  tender 
bonds  of  social  Uf e ;  extinguishing  letters,  arts, 
and   sciences  in  blood  and  tears ;     sowing  the 
dragon's  teeth  of  human  misery,  wherever  its 
reign  extends.     But  in  the  compulsory  union,  yet 
ceaseless  conflict,  of  antagonistic  elements,  which 
is  the  universal  law  of  life,  in  the  mysterious  and 
often  apparent,   inconsistent   chain  of  cause  and 
effect,  in  which  human  events  are  hnked,  evil  is 
ever  the   companion  and  the  occasion  of  good. 
When  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  of  human 
intelligence,  long  sealed  in  restless  slumber,  are 


36 

breakihg  up,  and  society  is  riven  by  the  throes  of 
some  momentous  revolution,  from   the  strife  of 
warring  forces  is  born  genius,  whose  high  mission 
is  to   construct  and  to   redeem;    to  mould  the 
chaos  into  new  forms  of  social  life ;  to  educe  from 
disorder  new    systems  of  polity.       Even  when 
anarchy  is   merely  a  war  of  selfish  instincts,  the 
seething  up  through  the  shattered  crust  of  society 
of  the  corruption  that  ferments  at  its  heart,  it  has 
always  features  that  reclaim  it  from  utter  hideous- 
ness.     In  the  life  of  a  polished  and  well-ordered 
community,  evil  and  good  are  rarely  brought  into 
strong  contrast.     Under  its  placid  surface  heroic 
virtue,  as  well  as  colossal  vice,  lies  hidden  and  un- 
suspected.     But  the  troubles  that  stimulate  into 
portentous  activity  the  basest  passions  of  human 
nature,  also  afford  an  incitement  and  a  field  to  its 
noblest    qualities.        Herbs    of    healing    power 
flourish  by   the  deadliest  plants.     Sweet  flowers 
bloom,   and  living   rills  gush   forth  in  the  most 
savage  desert.      And  from  amidst  the  crimes  and 
miseries  of  mankind   spring  up  great  deeds  and 
immortal   virtues,  to   shed  light  and  beauty  and 
consolation ;  divine  seeds  that  blossom  into  golden 
harvests  long  after  the  memory  of  the  desolate  seed 
time  has  passed  away.     Thus  the  spirit  of  chivalry, 
the  glory  of    mediaeval  Europe,  and  the  soul  of 


37 

Christian  heroism,  which  flung  such  a  pure  and 
softening  radiance  over  the  grim  terrors  of  feudal 
barbarism,  still  survives,  to  inform,  however  im- 
perfectly, the  gross  materialism  of  modern  civiU- 

zation. 

This   tendency  of  calamitous  times,  to  develop 
latent   strength  and  goodness  of  character,  finds 
its    most  striking   manifestations    in    the    finer 
nature  of  woman.     Every  country  has  furnished 
examples   of  women,  often  of  fragile  frame  and 
shrinking  delicacy,   cradled  in  the  lap  of  refined 
luxury,  so  that  even  the  breezes  of  summer  seemed 
to  visit  their  cheeks  too  roughly,  who  kindled  by 
the  fire  and  endued  with  the  sublime  power  of  some 
lofty  purpose,  have  displayed  a  patient   courage, 
a  fertility  of  resource,  even  a  capacity  of  physical 
endurance  that  shame  the  strength  and  intellect  of 
man;    who   have    lived   and   died    marvels   and 
mysteries  to  his  grosser  sympathies.     The  annals 
of  no  other  land  are  so  rich  in  records  of  feminine 
worth,  so   illumined  by  the  splendour  of  feminine 
achievements  as  those  of  France.     And  even  the 
sordid  passions    and   ignoble   contentions  of  the 
Fronde  produced  heroines  whose  exploits  lend  to 
that  barren  struggle  an  enduring  interest. 

The  escape  of  Conde's  leading  adherents  from 
Paris  only  stimulated  the  Regent  to  more  vigorous 


38 

efforts  to  crush  the  scattered  forces  of  insurrection 
before  they  gathered  to  a  head.     Troops  were  in- 
stantly despatched   to  reduce  the  provinces   of 
which  the  imprisoned  princes  had  been  governors. 
The  towns  of  Champagne  and  Burgundy  opened 
their   gates  without  resistance  to   the   Duke  of 
Vend6me,  now   High  Admiral   of    France    and 
Governor  of  Burgundy,  and  propped  in  his  new 
fortunes  by  the  betrothal  of  his  son,  Mercocur,  to 
Olympia  Mancini.      Only  the  fortress  of  Belle- 
garde,  into  which  the  Count  of  Boutteville  had 
thrown  himself  with  a  body  of  gentlemen,  defied 
the  royal  arms  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  kingdom. 
The  province  of  Berri  accepted  its  new  governor, 
the  Count  of  St.  Aignan,  with  equal  facility,  the 
cause  of  Conde  being  upheld  there  only  in  the 
almost  impregnable  castle  of  Montrond. 

In  the  meantime,  Anne  of  Austria,  with  all  the 
energy  which  offended  authority  and  personal  re- 
sentment could  call  forth  in  an  imperious  nature, 
had  pursued  Madame  de  Longueville  into  Nor- 
mandy. Kendered  insensible  to  fatigue  or  priva- 
tion by  the  ardour  of  her  feelings,  she  passed 
almost  the  whole  of  each  day  on  horseback. 
Mazarin  and  the  Court,  unable  to  keep  pace  with 
her  movements,  followed  more  leisurely  in  the 
rear.     Rouen  and  other  important  towns  surren- 


39 


dered  to  her  first  summons,   and  Madame   de 
Longueville,  hunted  from  place  to  place,  sought 
shelter  at  Havre  from  the  Duchess  of  Richelieu. 
But  this  artful  lady,  in  whom  gratitude  was  evi- 
dently a  lively  expectation   of    future  benefits, 
seizing  the  opportunity  of  purchasing  by  her  pre- 
sent services  the  recognition  of  her  marriage  by 
the  Regent,  repulsed  her  unfortunate  friend  from 
the  gates,  and  even  made  a  merit  of  allowing  her 
to  continue  her  flight.     Marsillac  had  departed 
some  time  before  to  raise  his  vassals  in  Poitou, 
and  the  forlorn  fugitive  threw  herself  into  the  crag- 
built  castle  of  Dieppe.     This  last  refuge  also 
failed  her.     On  the  approach  of  the  royal  forces, 
the  Governor  declared  his  inability  to  hold  out  the 
place,  and  the  citizens  of  Dieppe  were  deaf  to  her 
eloquent  appeals  to  them  to  arm  in  its  defence. 
It  was  a  dark  and  tempestuous  night,  wild  even 
beyond  the  terrible  experience  of  that  ii^on-bound 
coast.     The   storm   howled   dismally  around  the 
mist-clad  turrets  of  the  castle,  and  the  sea,  rolling 
in  mountainous  billows,  broke  in  thunder  at  its 
base.  One  of  two  courses  was  open  to  the  Duchess ; 
either  to  brave  the  fury  of  the  elements,  or  to 
throw  herself  on  the  mercy  of  the  Regent.     She 
did  not   for   a  moment  hesitate  in  her   choice. 
Having  first  made  a  general  confession  to  a  priest. 


%ii 


40 

she  left  the  castle  by  a  private  outlet,  and  pro- 
ceeded on  foot  along  the  coast,  accompanied  by  a 
few  attendants,  to  a  small  port  about  two  leagues 
distant,  where  a  foreign  vessel,  in  which  she  had 
secured  a  passage,  lay  at  anchor.    The  little  party 
toiled  along  their  broken  way,  through  the  pitchy 
darkness    which   clothed  in   deeper  horror    the 
terrors  that    encompassed    them.       They    were 
beaten  by  the  fierce  tempest  and  by  the  drifting 
spray,  and  were  guided  only  by  the  hoarse  roar  of 
the  raging  surf,  and  the  forked  lightnings  which, 
flashing   through  the   gloom,  lit    up  into    fitful 
splendour  the  wild  sublimity  of  the  scene.     On 
reaching  the  harbour  they  found  two  small  boats, 
which  had  been  hired  to  take  them  to  the  ship. 
But  even  the  hardiest  sailors  of  the  coast,  daunted 
by  the  perilous  aspect  of  the  sea,  refused  to  venture 
out.       The  entreaties  of  the  Duchess  and    the 
promise  of  a  large  reward   at  length   prevailed. 
One  of  the  crew  carried  her  in  his  arms  through 
the  surf,  and  placed  her  in  a  boat.     But  she  was 
ahnost  instantly  dashed  from  it  by  the  rush  of 
waters,  and  it  was  at  the  imminent  risk  of  their 
own  lives  that  the  gentlemen  of  her  suite,  plunging 
into  the  foam,  rescued  her,  when  half-drowned, 
from  the  breakers.     On  recovering  consciousness 
she  was  eager  to  renew  the  attempt,  but  aU  her 


41 

eloquence  and  Uberality  failed  to  induce  the  sea- 
men  to  consent.     The  f oUowing  day  she  concealed 
herself,  and  in  the  night,  the  wind  having  lulled, 
was  just  putting  off  from  the  shore,  when  one  of 
her  friends  gaUoped  up  with  information  that  the 
captain  of  the  vessel,  in  which  she  was  about  to 
embark,   ha^    taken    an   enormous  bribe    from 
Cardinal  Mazarin  to  deliver  her  up.     After  this 
narrow  escape,  she  wandered  along  the  sea  shore 
for  fifteen  days,  disguised  in  male  attire  and  beset 
by  dangers  and  privations.     She  succeeded  at  last 
in  obtaining  a  passage   under  a  feigned  name, 
which  belied  her  sex,  from  Havre  to  Holland  m 
an  English  ship.     From  Holland  she  proceeded 
to  Stenay,  where  there  is  reason  to  fear  she  soon 
forgot  her  vows  of  penitence  in  the  society  of 
Viscount  Turenne. 

Turenne  has  been  pronounced  by  the  highest 
judges  one  of  the  most   consummate  masters  of 
the  art  of  war  that  any  age  or  country  has  pro- 
duced.    His  qualifications  for  command  were  m  a 
manner  hereditary.     His  maternal  uncle,  Prmce 
Maurice  of  Nassau,  had  been  endowed  by  nature 
with  miUtary  genius  still  more  splendid  than  his 
own  •   his  father  had  been  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished captains  of  Henry  IV,     The  interest 
of    his  powerful  family  opened  to    him,  at  an 


42 

unusually  early  age,  opportunities  of  display- 
ing the  talents  whicli  rendered  him  illustrious. 
Whether  from  deficiency  of  knowledge  or  of 
enterprise,  the  greatness  of  the  difficulties,  or  the 
blind  caprice  of  fortune,  his  first  campaigns  were 
rarely  successful.  At  the  battle  of  Mariendal  he 
suffered  the  greatest  disgrace  that  can  befal  a 
general,  in  allowing  his  army  to  be  surprised,  and 
almost  annihilated  by  Count  Mercy  and  John  of 
Werth.  But  subsequent  study  and  experience  so 
developed  and  matured  his  extraordinary  natural 
ability,  as  to  advance  him  in  the  judgment  of 
Napoleon  to  the  very  foremost  place  among 
modem  strategists.  It  was  pecuHar  to  him 
of  famous  commanders,  that  years  lent  fire  to  his 
temperament  while  perfecting  his  skill.  As  he 
grew  older  he  grew  more  enterprising,  and  his 
latest  operations  were  at  once  the  most  faultless 
and  the  most  brilliant.  His  was  not  the  genius  of 
Conde,  which  at  its  very  first  dawning  burst  forth 
into  dazzling  effulgence.  Its  rising  was  obscured 
by  shadows,  but  as  it  slowly  climbed  its  starry 
pathway  the  mantling  vapours  were  dissipated  by 
its  expanding  radiance,  leaving  it  to  set  in  the 
fulness  of  glory.  Conde^s  genius,  fervid  and 
daring,  flashed  out  with  the  light  of  inspiration  in 
the  tumult  of  battle,  confounding  and  destroying 


48 

his  foes  by  some  prodigy  of  tactics  at  the  very 
moment  when    their  triumph    seemed  assured 
The   genius  of    Turenne    displayed    its    patient 
energy  and  its  unbounded  resources  to  most  ad- 
vantage  amidst  the  discouragement  and  the  dis- 
organization of  defeat.     A  single  victory  which, 
indeed,  rather  deserves  the  name  of  a  conquest, 
placed  the  young  hero  of  Rocroi  upon  the  pmnacle 
of  fame.     His  great  rival  reached  the  same  proud 
eminence  by  a  slow  and  toilsome,  but  not  less 
certain  progress.     Turenne  was  of  middle  stature 
powerfully  and  rather  clumsily  built,  and  adorned 
with  few  of  the  graces  of  a  Court.     His  features, 
strongly  marked,    even    to    harshness,  wore    a 
habitual  expression  of  melancholy,  which  his  thick 
and  contracted  eye-brows  almost  deepened  into 
aloom.     His  ordinary  demeanour  betrayed  a  want 
of  ease  and  self-confidence,  which  appeared  to 
indicate    irresolution  of  character.     But   though 
modest   almost  to  a  fault,   and   constitutionaUy 
cautious,  no  man  in  trying  emergencies  arrived 
more  rapidly  at  a  decision,  or  adhered  to  it  more 
tenaciously.     He  was  cheerful,   gentle,  sincere; 
simple  in  his  tastes,  generous  and  hospitable;   a 
warm  friend  and  a  placable  enemy.     His  capacity 
for  government,  although  less  exercised,  was  not 
inferior  to  his  capacity  for  war.     He  had  been 


44 


brought  up  in  the  Huguenot  faith,  to  which  his 
family  had  given  some  of  its  bravest  champions. 
During  the  earlier  part  of  his  career,  whilst  a 
member  of  the  briUiant  but  profligate  military 
party,  of  which  Conde  was  the  hero  and  chief,  he 
did  not  entirely  escape  the  taint  of  fashionable 
vices.  In  later  life,  religion  reckoned  him  amongst 
her  most  fervent  votaries.  Catholicity  amongst 
her  most  illustrious  converts.  In  truth,  he  became 
one  of  the  choicest  specimens  of  a  great  and  good 
man,  of  genius  purified  and  exalted  by  virtue. 

The  beautiful  and  ambitious  Duchess  of 
Bouillon  had  been  prevented  from  being  the  com- 
panion of  her  husband's  flight  by  an  advanced 
state  of  pregnancy.  The  Eegent  harshly  ordered 
her  to  be  arrested  on  the  day,  and  almost  at  the 
hour  when  she  was  confined  in  child-birth.  The 
only  solace  vouchsafed  to  her,  in  the  languor  of 
illness  and  the  solitude  of  a  rigorous  constraint, 
was  an  occasional  visit  from  a  daughter  who  had 
been  separated  from  her,  a  child  about  nine  years 
old.  One  evening,  as  the  little  girl  was  leaving 
her  mother's  chamber,  a  sentinel  preceding  her 
with  a  torch  to  light  the  way  through  the  dim 
ante-rooms,  the  Duchess  crouching  down  followed 
close  behind,  and  contrived  to  secrete  herself  in  a 
cellar.     From  this  dismal  asylum  she  was  dragged 


45 

through  an  air-hole  by  her  maids.     Her  friends, 
without  losing  a  moment,  provided  her  with  the 
means  of  escape  from  Paris;  and  she  was  on  the 
point   of  setting  out  for   Auvergne,  when  word 
was  brought  to  her  that  her   daughter  had  been 
stricken  with  the  small-pox.     No  personal  con- 
sideration could  sever  the  tender  mother  from  the 
couch   of  her   suffering    child.     The    agents    of 
Government,  with  the  keen  instincts  of  their  caU- 
ing,  found  the  Duchess  watching  by  her  daughter's 
piUow,  and  flung  her  into  the  Bastille. 

But  the  highest  example  of  feminine  worth  was 
afforded  by  the  young  Princess  of  Conde,  who, 
caUed  forth  by  the  misfortunes   of  her  husband 
from  comparative  obscurity  and  contempt  to  play 
a  great  part  on  the  political  stage,  became,  through 
native  force  and  beauty   of  her    character,  the 
wonder  and  the  admiration  of  the  age.   Her  life, 
Bince  her  inauspicious  nuptials,  had  been  passed 
in    meek    endurance    of     unprovoked    wrongs. 
After  Richelieu's  death,  Condi's  aversion  to  the 
child  who  had  been  forced  upon  him  as  a  bride, 
countenanced  by  the  open  disdain  of  his  proud 
family,  manifested  itself  in  studied  neglect.     For 
the  contemptuous  dislike  of  her  husband,  which 
neither  her  love,  her    gentle    virtues,  nor  her 
patient  submission  had  power  to  soften,  and  the 


46 

indignities  heaped  upon    her    by    his    haughty 
kindred,  the  young   Princess  found  but  a  poor 
recompense  in  the  dreary  isolation  of  a  barren 
greatness,  shorn   of    honour    and  uncheered  by 
sympathy.     But  hers    was  one   of  those    noble 
natures  which  great  trials,   instead  of  crushing, 
strengthen  and  purify.     At   a    time    when  the 
manners  of  the  majority  of  her  sex  in  Paris  might 
be  truly  described  as  chartered  Ubertinism,  and 
notwithstanding   conjugal    wrongs    sufficient    to 
irritatethemost  forbearing  of  women,  her  character 
was  unsulUed  by  the  faintest  breath  of  slander. 
Indeed,  her  chastity  was  the  theme  of  general 
and,  most  frequently,  derisive  comment.    But  even 
the  few  who  appreciated  the  modest  virtues  that 
bloomed  on  the  monotonous  surface  of  her  joyless 
Hf  e,  never  suspected  the  deep  rich  mine  that  lay 
concealed  beneath,  waiting  for  the  rude  hand  of 
calamity  to  lay  bare  its  treasures. 

Around  the  Princesses  at  ChantiUy  there 
assembled  a  little  court  of  noble  ladies,  the  most 
distinguished  of  whom  was  Angelique  de  Mont- 
morenci,  the  beautiful  Duchess  of  ChatiUon. 
Some  years  before,  Conde,  then  at  the  zenith  of 
his  fame,  had  loved  AngeHque  passionately.  The 
young  Duke  of  Chatillon,  who;  inflamed  with  aa 
deep  and  a  more  legitimate  affection,  was  a  suitor 


47 

for  her  hand,  viewed  with  alarm  the  advances  of 
Buch  a  formidable  competitor.     He  knew  but  of 
one  way  to  disarm  the  rivaby  that  menaced  hia 
happiness,  which  was  to  reveal  his  own  attach- 
ment in  confidence  to  the  Prince.     Conde,  with  a 
generosity  rare  at  that  profligate  period,  sacrificed 
his  passion  to  friendship.      He  not  only  discon- 
tinned  his  attentions,  but  he  aided  his  rival  to 
carry  off  the  prize,  and  afterwards  reconciled  the 
lady's  family,  who  were  his  own  maternal  relatives, 
to  the  marriage.     After  Chatillon's  death,  at  the 
battle  of  Charenton,  Conde  renewed  his  suit  with 
the  Duchess.     It  was  coldly  received.     But  when 
reverses  had  darkened  the  proud  fortunes  of  the 
hero,  when  the  eagle  was  caged  in  the  donjon  of 
Vincennes,  Angelique,  touched  with  pity,  devoted 
herself  to  solace  his  mother's  grief  and  to  pro- 
mote his  Hberation. 

The  party  at  ChantiUy  was  soon  joined  by  the 
able  and  faithful  Lenet.  Communications  were 
then  opened  with  the  partizans  of  the  Princes 
throughout  the  country,  and  with  independent 
members  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris  who  resented 
the  infraction  of  the  Declaration  of  October  as  a 
fatal  blow  to  public  liberty.  Anne  of  Austria  had 
hastened  from  Normandy,  with  her  son  and  Car- 
dinal Mazarin,  to  press  the  siege  of  Bellegarde, 


II 


48 

wliere  the   Count  of   Boutteville   made  a   stout 
defence.       The  restoration  of  the    Marquis    of 
Chateauneuf  to  his  old  place  of   Keeper  of  the 
Seals,  the  grant  of  the  reversion  of  the  post  of 
High  Admiral  to  the  Duke  of  Beaufort,  and  the 
flatteries  and  promises  lavished  on  the  Coadjutor, 
secured  for  the  present  the    aUegiance  of  the 
Fronde   and    the    tranquillity    of    Paris.       But 
the  absence  of   the  Eegent    and    her   Minister 
fi-om  the  centre  of  Government,  allowed  oppor- 
tunibies     of    poHtical    intrigue,     which    the    in- 
defatigable Lenet  strove  to  turn  to  account.     The 
young  Princess  at  first   had  little  weight  in  the 
councils  at  ChantiUy.     She  was  regarded  as  an 
intruder  into  the  family  of  Bourbon,  as  a  feeble 
girl    without     capacity     or    high     instincts     to 
qualify  her  for  the   direction    of   State   affairs. 
Lenet  was  the  first  to  discern  glimmerings  of  a 
lofty  spirit  and  superior  talents  through  the  veil 
of  her  timid  reserve.     His  schemes  were  paralyzed 
by  the  irresolution  and  avarice  of  the  Dowager 
Princess,  whose  courage  was  broken,  and  whose 
natural  faihngs  were  morbidly  developed  by  age 
and  misfortune.  Foreseeing  that  Claire,  especially 
if  accompanied  by  her  son,  would  play  a  much 
more  important  part  in  a  civil  war,  he  constantly 
lent  her  encouragement  and  support. 


49 

Plotting,  however,  was  not  the  sole  occupation 
of  the  fair   conspirators   at   ChantiUy.      Golden 
threads  of  pleasure  were  interwoven  in  the  sombre 
tissue  of  intrigue.  The  Chateau,  crowning  scenery 
of  bewitching  beauty,  surrounded  by  gardens  laid 
out  with  exquisite  taste,  and  graced  by  the  pre- 
sence of  young  and  lovely  women,  became  the 
secret  resort  of  gallant  gentlemen  from  all  parts 
of  the  kingdom.      The  Dowager  Princess,  with 
the  majestic  remains  of  that  peerless  beauty  which 
had  so  nearly  set  all  Europe  in  a  flame,  still  pre- 
served undiminished   a   sparkling   wit,  and  the 
charm  of  conversational  powers  not  less  remark- 
able than  her  beauty.    Many  an  amusing  anecdote 
of  her  royal  lover,  relieving  gloomier  recollections 
of  the  terrible  Richelieu,  was  now  drunk  in  from 
her  lips  by  a  brilliant  circle  of  dehghted  Hsteners. 
In  the  fervid  heat  of  noon,  ladies  and  cavaliers 
dispersed  themselves  through  the  dehcious  shades 
of  embowering  foliage,  weaving  the  bright  fancies 
of  youth  and  passion,  as  they  lounged  in  luxurious 
indolence  in  perfumed  arbours,  which  the  faint 
breath  of  orange  trees,  and  the  cool  murmurs  of 
gleaming  fountains  made  paradises  for  a  Sybarite. 
At  eventide,  when  a  gentle  breeze  awaking  fanned 
the  earth  with  its  fragrant  wings,  they  strolled  in 
laughing  groups  by  the  borders  of  the  lake.    The 

VOL.   II,  ^ 


50 


51 


vivid  flash  of  wit,  the  genial  play  of  humour,  the 
gorgeous  dreams  of  fancy,  the  Ught  jest,  the 
stinging  epigram,  the  soft  magic  of  love,  eloquent 
in  bright  smUes  and  chivalrous  homage,  threw  a 
sunshine  over  the  cares  of  faction,  and  lent  a 
deeper  speU  to  that  enchanting  landscape,  which 
spread  away,  radiant  and  ever  various,  beneath  the 
stately  promenoirs  of  Chantilly. 

This  chequered  Ufe  of  conspiracy  and  pleasure 
was    brought   somewhat    abruptly    to    a    close. 
Secret  reports  from  Paris  informed  the  Regent, 
then  at  Dijon,  that  Chantilly  had  become  a  focus 
of  rebelUon.     She  despatched  a  gentleman  of  the 
King's  household,  named  De  Vouldy,  to  arrest  the 
Princesses,  and  to  escort  the  younger  to  Chateau- 
roux,  a  stem  and  isolated  old  castle,  belongmg  to 
Conde  in  Berri.     The  sudden  occupation  of  the 
neighbouring  villages  by  detachments  of  the  royal 
troops  gave  the  fair  ofienders  at  Chantilly  wammg 
of  their  danger,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  Lenet, 
they  concerted  an  ingenious  plan  of  operations  to 
defeat  the  intentions  of  the  Regent. 

The  Dowager  Princess,  feigning  severe  illness, 
retired  to  her  bed.     Claire,  who,  when  the  alarm 
was  given,  was  confined  to  her's  by  fever,  arose 
and  concealed  herseU  with  the   little  Duke  of 
Enghien.    Her  plaxie  was  taken  by  Miss  Gerbier, 


a  young  Englisli  lady  of  her  household,  whose 
resemblance  to  her  mistress  was  sufficient  to  de- 
ceive a  not  very  intrusive  observer,  in  the 
gloom  of  a  sick  chamber.  A  gardener^s  son  was 
dressed  to  represent  the  Duke  of  Enghien.  De 
Youldy,  on  producing  the  Regent^s  warrant,  was 
introduced  with  the  most  anxious  precautions  into 
the  bed-chambers  of  the  Princesses,  and  so  well 
did  the  pretended  invahds  perform  their  parts 
that  he  was  thoroughly  deceived.  He  naturally 
shrank  from  unnecessary  harshness  towards  pri- 
soners whose  rank,  sex,  and  condition  of  health, 
claimed  respectful  forbearance.  Contenting  him- 
self with  making  arrangements  to  visit  them  in 
person  at  short  intervals,  he  left  them  in  com- 
parative freedom.  Towards  midnight,  Claire, 
accompanied  by  her  son,  disguised  as  a  girl,  and 
by  a  few  ladies,  stole  from  the  chateau.  At  the 
outskirts  of  the  forest  the  party  found  a  capacious 
coach  and  six,  of  sober  colour,  which  had  been 
stationed  there  to  receive  them  by  the  care  of 
Lenet.  They  entered  at  once,  and  set  off  for  the 
Castle  of  Montrond,  travelling  as  the  family  of 
Madame  de  Tourville,  the  Princesses  first  Lady  of 
Honour.  Their  safety  was  watched  over  by  a 
mounted  escort  of  gentlemen,  who,  in  order  to 
avoid  observation,  travelled  in  pairs,  each  detach- 

D  2 


52 

ment  stopping  at  a  different  inn,  and  suppressing 
all  recognition  of  the  others.     On  reaching  Paris 
a  change  of  horses  was  obtained  from  the  Hotel 
de  Conde,  and  the  fugitives  continued  their  journey 
southwards,  halting  only  at  the  houses  of  assured 
friends,   when    rest   and    food    were   absolutely 
necessary.      They  crossed  the  Loire  at  a  ferry 
opposite  the  chateau  of  the  Duke  of  Sully,  grand- 
son of  the  great  minister,  who  had  passed  more 
than  forty  years  in  this  retreat,  having  survived 
Cardinal  Richeheu.     As  Claire  waited  on  the  bank 
for  the  coach  to  be  ferried  over,  sitting,  in  order 
to  disarm  suspicion,  on   Lenet's  knee,  she   was 
recognised  by  a  servant  from  the  chateau.     The 
Duke   courteously  offered    her    hospitality    and 
succour,    but  dreading    the  risk   of    delay,   she 
pressed  forward,  and,  after  an  exhausting  journey 
of  three  days  and  nights,  reached  Montrond  in 

safety. 

The  Castle  of  Montrond  crowned  the  summit 
of  a  precipitous  cliff  which  arose  in  the  angle 
formed  by  the  junction  of  the  rivers  Cher  and 
Marmaude.  Towering  high  from  the  centre  of  an 
extensive  plain,  it  commanded  the  little  town  of 
St.  Amand,  which  lay  nestling  at  its  feet,  and  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  and  fruitful  regions  of 
France.     Nature  and  art  had  combined  to  render 


. 


53 

the  place  almost  impregnable.     Three  sides  of  the 
cliff,  furrowed  by  chasms,  were  washed  by  a  deep 
and  rapid  current.     The  fourth  side  was  girdled 
by  three  lines  of  strong  fortifications,  the  outer- 
most of   which   could    only  be  approached  by  a 
single  narrow  pathway  hewn  in  the  rock.     An 
abundant   spring  of  pure  water  gushed  forth  on 
the  summit,  fertilizing  a  considerable  extent  of 
pasturage.      It  was  a  stronghold  in  which  a  small 
garrison,  well  supplied  with  ammunition  and  pro- 
visions, might  have  defied  with  impunity  a  power- 
ful  army.      But   the   Princess  found  it  on   her 
arrival  so  destitute  of  defenders  and  of  the  means 
of  defence,  that,  notwithstanding  its  strength,  it 
afforded  but  an  insecure  refuge  from  the  anger  of 
the  Regent. 

Meanwhile  the  comedy  of  Chantilly  was  suc- 
cessfully played  out.  Every  day  De  Vouldy 
visited  his  prisoners,  politely  assured  himself  of 
their  safety,  and  awaited  their  convalescence  in 
complete  security.  Rumours  of  the  flight  of  the 
younger  Princess  having  reached  Mazarin,  a 
second  messenger  was  despatched  to  Chantilly 
from  the  Court.  But  De  Vouldy  laughed  to 
scorn  the  uneasiness  of  the  Government.  The 
young  lady,  he  averred,  was  never  longer  than  a 
few  hours  out  of  his  sight.     His  eyes  were  only 


> 


54 

opened  to  the  deception  that  had  been  practised 
on  hiniywhen  the  Dowager  Princess,  having  allowed 
sufficient  time  to  elapse  for  her  daughter-in-law^s 
journey,  escaped  by  night  to  Paris,  attended  by 
Madame  de  Chatillon. 

The  Chambers  having  adjourned  for  vacation, 
the  old  Princess  concealed  herself  for  ten  days  in 
the  house  of  a  friendly  Councillor  of  Requests. 
On  the  morning  of  the  re-assembhng  of  the  Par- 
liament she  went  with  Madame  de  Chatillon  to  the 
Palace  of  Justice,  holding  in  her  hand  a  petition 
to  the  High  Court  that  the  article  against  arbitrary 
arrests  in  the  Declaration  of  October,  1648, 
might  be  enforced.  Standing  at  the  outer  door,  for 
a  long  time  she  vainly  solicited  each  member  as 
he  came  in  to  advocate  her  cause.  At  length  a 
patriotic  magistrate,  named  Deslande  Payen,  said 
he  should  not  be  prevented  by  fear  from  doing 
his  duty,  and  took  charge  of  the  petition.  At  the 
instance  of  the  First  President  Mole,  a  day  was 
appointed  for  its  consideration,  and  Madame  de 
Conde  was  assigned  a  temporary  residence  under 
the  protection  of  the  Court. 

The  Palais  Royal  and  the  Fronde  were  still  in 
the  first  transports  of  their  strange  alliance,  and 
the  coalition  employed  every  art  and  strained  every 
effort  to  defeat  the  motion.    The  Duke  of  Orleans, 


55 

who  represented  the  Crown,  during  the  Regent's 
absence    in   Burgundy,   went  to  the   Palace  of 
Justice,  accompanied  by  De  Retz  and  Beaufort, 
to  cast  the  weight  of  his  personal  influence  into 
the  scale  of    authority.      They  found    the  old 
Princess  awaiting  their  arrival  in  the  entrance 
hall.     Throwing  herself  at  their  feet,  with  tearful 
supplications,    she    implored    their    compassion. 
Orleans  escaped   from   her  in  haste,  muttering 
some  incoherent  excuses ;  Beaufort  could  not  utter 
a  word;    ''and  as  for  me,''  says  De  Retz,  '' 1 
almost  died  of  shame."     Deslande  Payen  sup- 
ported the  prayer  of  his  client  with  abihty  and 
courage.     The  magistrates  found  themselves  in  a 
position  of  peculiar  embarrassment.     They  had 
gone  to  all  lengths,  even  so  far  as  to  plunge  the 
kingdom  into  civil  war,  in  defence  of  the  principle 
of  the  liberty  of  the  subject  invoked  by  their  sup- 
pliant.    To  suffer  this  principle,  when  the  ink  of 
the  treaty  solemnly  affirming  it  was  scarcely  dry, 
to  be  openly  violated  without  even  a  protest,  was 
to  pass  the  most  severe  condemnation  on  them- 
selves.     They   must  stand   convicted  before  all 
France  either  of  unjustifiable  rebellion  or  of    a 
servile  betrayal  of  the  national  interests.     But  the 
odious  despotism  of  Cond^  was  stiU  fresh  in  every 
memory— still  filled  every  heart  with  hatred  and 


i 


56 

with  fear.     And  strong  personal  and  party  ani- 
mosities overbore,  in  the  minds  of  the  majority, 
higher  considerations  of  patriotism  and  justice. 
De  Ketz  and  his  satellites  inveighed  against  the 
insolent  tyranny  of  the  great  enemy  of  popular 
rights.     The  Duke  of  Orleans,  in  an  artful  speech 
of  affected  moderation,  deplored  the  necessities  of 
the  time  which  compelled  him  to  oppose  the  im- 
mediate liberation  of  his  cousins,  as  being  fraught 
with  danger  to  the  State.     To  clinch  his  argu- 
ments, he  produced  an  intercepted  copy  of  a  treaty, 
which  Madame  de  Longueville  and  Turenne  had 
concluded  with  the  Spaniards.     The  sight  of  this 
treasonable  document  quieted  the  conscience  of 
the  Assembly,  by  seeming  to  afford  the  justifica- 
tion which  it  felt  that  the  course  it  was  resolved 
to  follow  needed.     The  petition  was  rejected  by  a 
large  majority.  The  old  Princess,  however,  chiefly 
through  the  interposition  of  Mol^,  was  permitted 
by  the  Eegent  to  retire  to  the  country  seat  of  the 
Duchess  of  Chatillon.     The  proud  spirit  that  had 
borne  her  up  amidst  the  misfortunes  of  her  married 
life,   amidst  the  ruin   of   her  illustrious  house, 
when  her  husband  seemed  hopelessly  estranged 
from   her,   when  her   gallant   and  accompHshed 
brother,  the  last  Duke  of  Montmorenci,  perished 
on  the  scaffold,  sank  under  the  calamities  that 


■ 


57 

overwhelmed  her  children.  Crushed  by  a  weight 
of  grief  and  despair,  which  all  the  tender  solicitude 
of  Madame  de  Chatillon  was  unable  to  lighten, 
she  soon  found  refuge  from  her  sufferings  in  the 

grave. 

While  these  events  were  passing  in  Paris,  the 
younger    Princess,    assisted    by    the    able    and 
energetic  Lenet,  was  striving  against  almost  in- 
superable difficulties  to  put  Montrond  in  a  state 
of  defence.     The  Castle  was  destitute  of  resources 
of  every  kind,  and  Claire  soon  learned  that  mis- 
fortune has  a  gorgon  aspect  which  turns  the  hearts 
of  friends  into  stone.    Her  father,  the  old  Marshal 
Brez6,  famous  throughout  the  kingdom  for  his 
eccentric  and  somewhat  cynical  habits,  had  died 
in  the  early  part  of  the  year.     On  his  death-bed 
he  exacted  an  oath  from   his   principal  officer, 
Dumont  by  name,  to   hold  the  strong  town  of 
Saumur,  of  which  he  had  long  been  Governor,  in 
the  interest  of  his  daughter.     Claire's  first  step 
on  reaching  Montrond  was  to  communicate  with 
Dumont  and  with  the  Prince  of  Marsillac,  who 
had  just  succeeded  to  his  patrimonial  title  of  Duke 
of  la  Rochefoucault.     The  Duke  assembled  all  his 
retainers,   upon  the  pretext   of  celebrating    his 
father's  obsequies,  and  marched  towards  Saumur. 
But  news  meeting  him  on  the  way  that  Dumont, 

D  5 


^ 


68 

seduced  by  Mazarines  bribes,  had  betrayed  his 
trust,  he  was  obliged  to  disband  his  forces,  and 
retire  to  the  Chateau  of  Yerteuil.  The  old 
Princess  of  Cond6,  whose  many  admirable  qualities 
were  sullied  by  the  vice  of  avarice,  distracted  by 
anguish  and  terror,  refused  to  unlock  her  hoards. 
The  powerful  connexions  of  Conde  and  Breze, 
believing  the  cause  of  the  imprisoned  Princes 
hopeless,  hastened  to  make  their  peace  with  the 
Eegent,  and  in  reply  to  their  young  kinswoman's 
solicitations  for  succour,  counselled  submission. 
She  could  see  from  the  battlements,  the  new 
Governor  of  Berri,  the  Count  of  St.  Aignan,  a 
creature  of  Mazarin,  prowling  around  the  Castle 
with  a  strong  body  of  horsemen,  as  if  meditating 
hostilities.  After  a  while,  intelligence  arrived  of 
the  surrender  of  Bellegarde,  the  last  remaining 
possession  of  her  husband  in  Burgundy.  The 
condition  of  her  affairs  seemed  utterly  desperate 
even  to  her  staunchest  supporters.  But  she  bore 
bravely  up  against  disaster  and  defection.  "  Her 
trust,''  she  said,  ''  was  in  God,  the  protector  of 
innocence." 

Brightening  prospects  gradually  justified  the 
young  Princess's  confidence.  Sums  of  money, 
raised  by  the  sale  or  on  the  security  of  her 
father's     effects,    were     secretly     expended    in 


59 

procuring    munitions    of    war.      Many    of    the 
late  defenders    of    Bellegarde    stole  across  the 
country,  and  threw   themselves  into  Montrond. 
The  neighbouring  gentry  sent  in  supplies  of  pro- 
visions under  cover  of  the  night.     And  what  was 
of  the  greatest  moment,  the  Regent  and  Mazarin, 
having  their  hands  full  in  other  quarters,  and  de- 
spising her  as  an  adversary,  allowed  themselves  to 
listen  to  her  excuses,  conveyed  in  a  letter  full  of 
pathos  and  submission,  which  deprecated  Anne  of 
Austria's  anger,  and  the  hostile  proceedings  of  St. 
Aignan.     Accepting  her  plea  that  she  had  sub- 
stantially obeyed  the  royal  mandate  in  retiring  to 
Berri,  the  Government  imprudently  instructed  St. 
Aignan  to  suffer  her  to  remain  unmolested  during 
her  good  behaviour.      It  soon  had  reason  bitterly 
to  repent  its  error.     The  gentry  of  Berri,  who 
now  flocked  openly  to  pay  her  their  respects,  cap- 
tivated by  the  natural  charm  of  her  manners  and 
conversation,  became  enthusiastic  in   her  cause. 
Every  day  noble  volunteers  arrived  from  all  parts 
of  France  to  swell  the  garrison  of  Montrond.     In 
order  not  to  arouse  suspicion,  most  of  these  were 
quietly  quartered  in  the  village  of  St.  Amand,  or 
distributed  through  the  neighbouring  chateaux. 
Finally  the  Dukes  of  Bouillon   and   La  Roche- 
foucault  sent  her  word  that  they  had  concerted  a 


60 

plan  of  operations,  and  were  ready  to  take  the 
field  at  the  head  of  their  vassals,  if  she  would  join 
them  with  her  son. 

It  was  resolved  in  the  Princess's  Council,  of 
which  the  leading  members  were  Lenet  and 
Count  Coligni,  that  she  should  embrace  without 
delay  the  proposal  of  the  Dukes.  A  great  hunting 
party  was  proclaimed,  and  upon  the  pretext  of 
sport,  the  partizans  of  Conde,  in  Berri,  were  sum- 
moned to  meet  at  Montrond.  When  the  guests 
had  all  assembled  in  the  great  hall  of  the  castle, 
the  gates  were  locked,  and  Claire  entered  the 
apartment,  leading  the  little  Duke  of  Enghien  by 
the  hand.  Nature  had  endowed  her  with  few  of 
the  external  attributes  with  which  fancy  loves  to 
adorn  a  heroine.  Her  figure,  though  graceful  and 
well-proportioned,  was  diminutive ;  her  features, 
pleasing  and  intelligent  rather  than  striking,  not- 
withstanding the  soft  fire  of  her  eyes,  were  defi- 
cient in  regularity;  her  manners  on  ordinary 
occasions  were  remarkably  gentle  and  unobtrusive. 
But  her  insignificant  frame  was  informed  by  a 
noble  spirit  which,  when  stirred  by  deep  emotion, 
lit  up  her  countenance  into  singular  beauty,  and 
touched  her  tongue  with  irresistible  eloquence. 
And  now  when,  pale  and  weeping,  but  with  the 
light  of  heroic    courage  flashing  through    her 


61 


tears,  she  recounted  in  pathetic  language  the 
woes  and  wrongs  of  her  husband  and  her  son,  and 
told  her  moved  listeners  that  she  was  about  to 
confide  to  the  keeping  of  their  honour  the  Castle 
of  Montrond,  the  wreck  of  the  fortunes  of  a 
Prince,  but  yesterday  the  strength  and  glory  of 
France,  to-day  the  impotent  victim  of  a  per- 
fidious foreigner,  the  assembled  warriors,  elec- 
trified by  her  words,  sprang  to  their  feet  as  one 
man,  and  swore  to  die  in  its  defence. 

Tearing  herself  away  with  difficulty  from  a 
scene  of  frantic  enthusiasm,  Claire,  attended  by 
Lenet,  Coligni,  and  a  small  train,  left  Montrond 
on  the  night  of  the  8th  of  May,  and  started  upon 
her  journey.  She  rode  on  a  pillion  behind  Coligni, 
who,  to  disarm  suspicion,  gave  out  at  each  halting- 
place  on  the  route  that  she  was  a  rich  heiress 
whom  he  was  carrying  off  into  the  wilds  of  Au- 
vergne.  This  pretext  sufficed  in  that  adventurous 
age  to  obtain  for  him  general  sympathy  and  assis- 
tance. They  crossed  the  Cher  and  afterwards  the 
Allier,  eluding  the  rapid  pursuit  of  St.  Aignan 
climbed  by  rocky  paths  the  steep  mountains  of 
Chantal,  and  on  the  14th  of  May  reached  the 
camp  which  the  Dukes  had  pitched  near  the  village 
of  Anglar.  As  the  Princess  rode  along  the  Hnes 
of  burnished  steel  and  tossing  plumes,  drawn  up  to 


62 

receive  her,  there  arose  in  a  mighty  shout,  a  war- 
cry  which  shortly  afterwards  re-echoed  through- 
out France,  ''  Long  hve  the  Princes  and  down 
with  Mazarin.''  She  was  conducted  in  a  species  of 
triumphal  procession  to  Bouillon's  ancestral  seat, 
the  Chateau  of  Turenne. 

The  Duke    entertained    his   fair    guest    with 

princely  hospitality.     He  accorded  her  sovereign 

honours.     Fetes,  balls,  masquerades,  crowned  the 

day  with  pleasure  and  dethroned  the  night.     But, 

with  the  chief  personages,  revelry  was  but  the 

mask  of  political  intrigue,    furnishing  occasions 

for  drawing  together  the  neighbouring  gentry. 

Whilst    apparently    engrossed  by    festivity  the 

Princess  and  the  Dukes  laboured  incessantly  in 

secret   council  to   organize   a   formidable  revolt. 

They  sought  to  enhst  the   support  of  the  great 

Huo-uenot   connexion   of  the  south-west,   which, 

until   shattered  by:  the   blows  of  Richeheu,  had 

often  successfully  defied  the  whole  power  of  the 

Crown.     But  their  most    anxious  care    was  to 

induce  the  Parliament  and  citizens  of  Bordeaux 

actively  to  espouse  the  cause  of  the  Princes.     In 

order  to   understand  this  solicitude,    it  is  only 

necessary  to  keep  in  view  the  political  condition 

of  the  state.    At  that  period  of  selfish  turbulence, 

the  countenance  of  one  of  the  High  Courts  of 


63 


Justice  was  essential  to  the  success  of  an  insurrec- 
tion. These  great  magisterial  bodies  were  the 
sole  barriers  that  protected  the  mass  of  the 
population  from  the  despotism  of  the  Crown,  and 
in  their  pubhc  conduct  might  be  recognised  some- 
thing of  the  spirit  and  dignity  of  the  laws  of 
which  they  were  interpreters  and  guardians. 
Unlike  the  factious  nobles  who  took  advantage  of 
the  •  disorders  of  the  kingdom  to  eke  out  their 
slender  revenues  by  rapine,  who  obeyed  only  the 
ever  varying  impulses  of  individual  cupidity  or 
caprice,  the  Parliaments  were  ever  consistently 
united  in  the  defence  of  their  common  privileges, 
and  frequently  joined  in  vindicating  public 
liberty  and  national  interests.  The  honourable 
contrast  which  their  fidelity  to  their  order  and 
their  patriotism  afforded  to  the  political  profligacy 
of  the  nobility,  and  their  origin  among  the  great 
unprivileged  class,  secured  to  them  the  attach- 
ment and  veneration  of  the  people.  Wealthy 
burghers,  who  paid  but  a  grumbling  obedience 
to  a  Royal  Edict,  donned  helmet  and  loosed  purse- 
string  with  alacrity  at  the  appeal  of  a  Parliament. 
An  insurrection  inaugurated  with  such  auspices 
lost  in  the  popular  eye  the  darker  hues  of  re- 
belHon,  and  was,  in  a  manner,  hallowed  by  the 
sanction  of  public  justice. 


64 

The  house  of  Conde  and  the  city  of  Bordeaux 
were  bound  together  by  hereditary  ties  of  pro- 
tection and  gratitude.     The  captive  Prince  him- 
self had  laid  the  citizens  under  obligations.     They 
viewed  his  downfall  with  regret,  and  were  moved 
by  a  generous  compassion  for  his  wife  and  son. 
Domestic  grievances  of  their  own  strengthened 
this  feeling  of  sympathy.     They  groaned  under 
the  insolent  exactions  of  the  Duke  of  Epernon,  a 
rapacious    and    profligate    nobleman,   whom,  in 
opposition     to     their     repeated    remonstrances, 
Mazarin     upheld     in     his    mis-government     of 
Aquetaine  on  account  of  the  suit   of  his  son,  the 
Duke  of  Candale,  for  the  Countess  of  Martinozzi, 
the   Cardinal's    beautiful    niece.     Thus,  at    this 
critical  juncture,  the  second  city  of  the  kingdom, 
already  biassed  in  her  favour  by  ancient  associa- 
tions  and  personal   attachment,  was   goaded  by 
oppression  to  take  up   arms  in  the  Princess's 

cause. 

Claire  and  her  council,  on  receiving  certain 
intelligence  of  the  favourable  sentiments  of  the 
citizens  of  Bordeaux,  determined  to  assemble  all 
their  forces  without  delay  and  march  upon  the 
city.  This  resolution  was  executed  with  celerity 
and  vigour.  Messages  flew  through  the  adjacent 
provinces   summoning  the  partizans  of  the  im- 


65 


prisoned  Princes  to  assemble  in  arms,  and  the 
call  was  promptly  obeyed.     From    the  rugged 
mountains  of  Auvergne ;  from  the  golden  plains 
of  Languedoc,  consecrated  to  poetry  and  love  > 
from  the  vine-clad  slopes  of    Gascony,  gallant 
nobles  poured  to  the   common  rendezvous,  girt 
with  numerous  and  warlike  vassals,  all  wearing 
over  their  armour  scarves  of  ^^  Isabelle.''     This 
badge  of  the  insurgents  derived  its  origin  and  its 
name  from  an   incident   sufficiently  ludicrous  in 
itself,   and   curious,   as  being  perhaps    the  last 
historical  illustration   of  one   of  the  customs  of 
more  pious  times.     In  the  year   1601,  the  Arch- 
duchess Isabella,  Sovereign  of  the  Netherlands, 
besieged  Ostend,  which  had  revolted  from  the 
Spanish  rule,  with  a  powerful  army.     The  cannon 
of  the  Spaniards  soon  battered  down  the  defences 
of  the  town ;  yawning  breaches  invited  an  assault; 
and   the    Archduchess,  in   the    fervour    of    her 
enthusiasm  and  to  stimulate  her  troops,  rashly 
vowedthat  she  would  not  change  her  linen  tiU 
the  place  had  fallen.     She  found  to   her  mis- 
fortune   that    she    had    sadly    under-rated   the 
stubborn  valour  of  the  Flemings.     The  garrison, 
with  deplorable  want   of  consideration,  made  a 
most  obstinate  resistance.     Successive  storming 
parties  were  repulsed  with  prodigious  slaughter. 


66 


The  shattered  ramparts,  manned  by  determined 
patriotism,  were  proof  against  all  the  resources  of 
military  science  and  skill,  exhausted  by  the  com- 
passionate gallantry  of  the  most  chivalrous  and 
veteran  army  of  Europe.  The  siege  was  turned 
into  a  blockade,  and  three  long  years  had  passed 
away  before  the  patient  vigilance  of  the  besiegers 
famished  the  citizens  into  submission.  Isabella, 
being  a  devout  Catholic,  kept  her  vow,  at  a  sad 
sacrifice  of  personal  comfort,  and  of  the  lustre  of 
her  linen.  As  may  be  imagined,  her  ladies  were 
plunged  into  profound  despair.  They  anxiously 
sought  the  most  appropriate  means  of  testifying 
their  sympathy.  Even  courtly  flattery,  even 
Spanish  loyalty  shrank  from  the  inconveniences 
of  a  strict  imitation.  But  they  suggested  an 
expedient  which  afforded  at  once  a  touching  and 
an  unobjectionable  expression  of  grief,  which 
invested  the  fair  mourners  with  all  the  interest, 
without  involving  any  of  the  misery  of  martyrdom. 
All  the  ladies  of  the  Flemish  Court  had  their 
linen  dyed  a  pale  yellow.  This  jaundiced  tint 
became  the  rage,  the  magic  of  fashion  gave  it 
beauty,  its  origin  gave  it  a  name,  and  Cond^ 
raised  it  to  poHtical  significance,  by  adopting  it  as 
his  particular  colour. 

At  the  head  of  a  small  but  well-appointed  army 


67 

the   Princess  rapidly   descended  the  Dordogne. 
The  Duke  of  Epernon  sent  his  brother,  the  Cheva- 
lier de  la  Valette,  with  a  strong  force  to  oppose 
her,  and  a  battle  was  fought  near  the  village  of 
Montclar.     The  Royalists  were  routed  and  driven 
from  the  field,  leaving  their  standards,  baggage, 
and  military  chest  in  the  hands  of  the  insurgents. 
The  victorious  troops  continued  their  march  to  the 
famous  chateau  of  Courtras,  which  had  been  in- 
herited by  the   Princess  on    the  death    of  her 
brother,  the  Duke  of  Breze.     Here  it  was  deter- 
mined   to   await  fresh   advices  from  Bordeaux. 
Summer  now  rejoiced  in  the  exquisite  freshness 
of  its  early   bloom.       The    country   around  the 
chateau,  the  scene  of  the  defeat  of  the  Duke  of 
Joyeuse  by  Henry  of  Navarre,  was  crowned  with 
majestic  woods,  which  opened  in  long  shadowy 
vistas  upon  an  enchanting  variety  of  landscapes, 
resplendent  with  the  glowing  hues  of  the  South. 
Mountains  now  stem  and  bare,  now  waving  with 
verdure ;  gently  swelling  slopes  clothed  with  vine- 
yards and   olive-groves ;  golden  valleys  through 
which  the  tributaries  of  the  Dordogne  wandered 
like  veins   of   silver,  grouped  in  ever-changing 
forms  of    beauty,   charmed  the  eye.       In    this 
region  of  delight  war  smoothed  his  rugged  front, 
and  laid  aside  all  his  ferocity.   The  Duke  of  Boml- 


68 


Ion,  violently  smitten  by  the  attractions  of  Miss 
Gerbier,  who  had  contrived  to  rejoin  her  mistress, 
set  an  example  of  gallantry  which  gave  a  tone  to 
the  whole  army.  The  sweet  forest  glades,  upon 
whose  flower-enamelled  sward  Titania  might  have 
loved  to  gambol  with  her  fairy  court,  resounded 
with  the  mirth  of  less  ethereal  revellers  ;  and  occa- 
sionally some  Orlando  might  be  seen  carving  the 
memorials  of  his  passion  on  the  venerable  trees, 
the  mangled  witnesses  of  his  raptures  or  despair. 

Tidings  of  an  unfavourable  character  quickly 
terminated  this  brief  season  of  dalliance.  The 
Parliament  of  Paris,  on  receiving  intelligence  of 
the  outbreak  of  civil  war,  had  proclaimed  Bouillon 
and  La  Rochefoucault  public  enemies.  The 
Dukes  of  la  Force,  St.  Simon,  Tremouille,  and 
other  influential  Huguenots,  upon  whose  co-opera- 
tion the  insurgents  had  counted,  refused  to  move, 
or  declared  for  the  Government.  Lavie,  Advocate- 
General  of  the  Parliament  of  Bordeaux,  had  been 
sent  down  from  the  Court  to  keep  the  city  to  its 
allegiance,  and  was  vigorously  supported  by  the 
municipal  authorities.  An  adverse  reaction 
swayed  the  Parliament.  This  body  had  been 
willing  to  harbour  and  defend  persecuted  fugi- 
tives, the  wife  and  son  of  their  benefactor.  But  it 
hesitated  to  incur  the  manifold  perils  which  it 


69 


foresaw  must  result  from  admitting  into  the  city 
a  victorious  Princess,  surrounded  by  a  devoted 
army,  commanded  by  turbulent  and  unscrupulous 
noblemen  who  had  been  declared  traitors  by  the 
highest  judicial  authority  of  the  kingdom.     The 
mass  of  the  citizens,  however,  filled  with  unreason- 
ing hatred  of  Epernon  and  Mazarin,  did  not  share 
the  wise  apprehensions  of  the  magistrates.     But 
their  leaders  found  it   necessary   to  temporise. 
Messages  from  her  principal  adherents  urged  the 
Princess  to  enter  Bordeaux  without  delay,   un- 
attended by  the  Dukes  or  by  any  armed  escort. 
Responding  to  these  invitations,  she  crossed  the 
Garonne  in  an  open  boat,  accompanied  only  by  her 
son  and  her  ladies.     When  she  reached  the  port 
the  guns  of  several  hundred  vessels  thundered 
forth  their  welcome.     The  whole  population  of  the 
city  poured  forth  to  receive  her,  and  bore  her  in 
triumph  along  streets  spanned  by  festive  arches, 
gay  with  the  streaming  banners  of  many  nations, 
and  strewn  with  flowers,  to  a  palace  which  had  been 
prepared  for  her  residence. 

Early  on  the  following  morning,  Claire,  attended 
by  a  vast  crowd,  went  to  the  House  of  Parlia- 
ment and  petitioned  the  assembled  magistrates  to 
espouse  her  cause.  The  debate  on  her  petition  was 
stormy  and  protracted.     But  the  tide  of  opinion 


70 


was  flowing  strongly  in  favour  of  a  neutral  poUcy, 
when  tlie  Princess  rushed  into  the  Chamber,  lead- 
ing her  little  son  by  the  hand,  and  beautiful  in  the 
Bubhme  agony  of  maternal    woe.      She  was  re- 
ceived  with  deep  respect,  and  at  once  accorded  a 
hearing.     The  grief  and  love  of  a  mother  inspired 
her  language.     She  said  she  had  brought  her  son 
to   the  Parliament   of   Bordeaux  a  supphant  for 
justice  and  for  protection  against  Mazarin.     He 
alone  of  his  house  was  at  liberty ;    he  was  only 
Beven  years    of  age ;  his  iUustrious  father  was  in 
irons ;  his  ancestors  had  been  their  protectors ; 
would  they  not  have  compassion  on  his  tender  m- 
nocence  which  represented  so  much  glory  and  so 
many  misfortunes !       Here  emotion   choked  her 
voice,  and  the  little  Prince,  casting  himself  upon 
his  knee,  exclaimed,  "Be  a  father  tome,  gentle- 
men,  for    Cardinal    Mazarin    has   deprived  me 
of  mine."     An   appeal* so    touching  would  have 
melted  more  flinty  hearts  than  those  which  beat 
in  the  bosoms  of  the   Gascons.     Many  of  the 
magistrates  wept  aloud,  and  the  President,  in  a 
broken  voice,  entreated  the  Princess  to  withdraw, 
in  order  that  the  discussion  might  be  resumed. 
Still  the  Parliament,  strong  in  its  sense  of  public 
duty,  shrank  from  embarking  in  a  rebellion.     It 
was  proposed  to  adjourn  the  debate,  and  a  mes- 


71 


sage  was  sent  to  the  Princess,  requesting  her  to 
return  to  her  Palace.     But  she  refused  to  leave 
the  building  while  the  question  at  issue  remained 
undecided  ;  and  the  angry  murmurs  of  the  multi^ 
tude   which,  agitated  by  fierce   passion,   surged 
through  the  outer  hall,  warned  the  Chamber  of 
the  danger  of  procrastination.   At  length  a  decree 
was    passed,  by  a    small    majority,   that   ''the 
Princess    of   Conde   and  the   Duke   of   Enghien 
might  reside  in  the  town  under  the  safe-guard  of 
the  laws."     The   result   was   such  as  the   more 
prudent  councillors  had  foreseen.     Bouillon  and 
La  Kochefoucault  entered  Bordeaux  without  ask- 
ing  permission.     At   their  instigation  the  mob 
attacked  and  pillaged  the  house  of  Lavie,  intending 
to  take  his  Hf e  ;  but  he  was  fortunate  enough  to 
escape  from  their  fury  in  disguise.     With  the 
connivance  of  the  majority  of   the  citizens,  the 
Dukes  gradually  introduced  their  soldiers  into  the 
town,  and  having  thus  gained  complete  command 
of  it,  the  Parliament  was  irretrievably  committed 

to  a  civil  war. 

It  was  fortunate  for  the  inhabitants  of  Bordeaux 
that  they  were  not  exposed  alone,  and  still  unpre- 
pared for  defence,  to  be  crushed  by  the  whole 
power  of  the  French  Crown.  At  the  moment 
when  they  raised  the  standard  of  insurrection,  a 


72 


73 


formidable    invasion  burst  across  tbe  nortbern 
frontiers,  and  divided  tbe  forces  of  tbe  monarcby. 
Long  and  abnost  incredible  mal-administration, 
and  tbe  exbausting  efforts  of  tbe  "  Tbirty  Years' 
War/'  bad  reduced  tbe  great  Spanisb  monarcby 
to  tbe  last  degree  of  prostration.     Its  treasury 
was  bankrupt ;  its  arsenals  were  empty ;  a  few  un- 
armed vessels  of  war  tbat  lay  rotting  in  its  silent 
dockyards,  a  few  ragged  and  famisbed  regiments, 
ill-disciplined,  and  worse  led,  represented  tbe  in- 
vincible   Armadas    and    tbe    superb    armies    of 
PbiHp  II.     But  CastiHan  pride  bad  spurned  tbe 
terms  of  tbe  peace  of  Munster ;  and  an  alluring 
prospect   bad    now    opened    upon    tbe    Spanisb 
Government  of  recovering,  in  a  few  montbs,  from 
distracted  France,  all  tbat  bad  been  lost  in  ten 
disastrous  campaigns.     Conde,  a  name  above  all 
otbers  of  fear  and  woe  to  Spain,  was  in  a  Frencb 
dungeon,  and  tbe  Soutbern  provinces  bad  risen  in 
arms  in  bis  cause.     Tbe  next  in  renown  of  living 
generals,  tbe  skilful  Turenne,  bad  arrived  at  tbe 
Court  of  Brussels,  commissioned  by  a  powerful 
Frencb  party  to  proffer  alliance  and  solicit  aid. 
Even  Spanisb  apatby  was  roused  to  turn  to  account 
circumstances  wbicb  promised  sucb  sweet  revenge 
and  sucb  splendid  advantages.     Tbe  wbole  force 
of  tbe  Low  Countries  advanced  into  Cbampagne, 


under  tbe  Arcbduke  Ferdinand  and  Turenne. 
Mazarin,  emulating  tbe  military  as  well  as  tbe 
literary  and  artistic  tastes  of  Eicbebeu,  reserved 
to  bimself  tbe  glory  of  repelling  tbis  inroad ;  and 
despatcbed  Marsbal  la  Meillerai,  a  brave  and 
skilful  commander,  witb  a  strong  body  of  troops, 
to  quell  tbe  Soutbern  rebelHon. 

A  struggle,  memorable  in  tbe  annals  of  Bor- 
deaux, now  began.  Tbe  royal  forces  assailed  tbe 
town  vigorously  from  witbout,  wbile  faction  and 
tumult,  secretly  fomented  by  Bouillon  and  La 
Eocbefoucault,  wbo  were  incensed  by  tbe  un- 
concealed aversion  in  wbicb  they  were  beld  by  tbe 
Parliament,  raged  witbin  its  walls.  But  tbe 
citizens,  full  of  courage  and  ardour,  admirably 
organised  and  admirably  led  by  tbe  Dukes,  not 
only  repelled  tbeir  assailants  in  several  sharp 
conflicts,  but  won  brilliant*  success  in  offensive 
operations.  Epemon  having  seized  and  fortified 
the  Island  of  St.  George,  a  post  of  great  advan- 
tage above  the  city,  a  body  of  new  levies,  trained 
by  Bouillon,  stormed  the  works  and  made  prisoners 
tbe  Chevalier  de  CanoUes  and  a  garrison  of  three 
hundred  men.  And  the  prudence,  winning  man- 
ners, and  unbounded  popularity  of  the  young 
Princess  were  constantly  employed,  with  the 
happiest  results,  in  restoring  order  and  healing 


R 


VOL.    II. 


E 


74 


75 


dissensions.     Tlie  greatest  difficulty  she  had  to 
encounter  was  want  of  money.     Her  resources, 
and  the  resources  of  the   Dukes  had  been  com- 
pletely drained  by  their  first  great  effort.  Wealthy 
adherents,  on  whose  contributions  she  had  relied, 
failed  her  at  the  last  moment.     The  Parliament 
had,  as  yet,  given  her  only  lukewarm  support;  and 
arbitrarily  to  tax  the  citizens,  already  staggering 
under  the  burdens  of  the  war,  was  too  odious  an 
expedient  to  be  thought  of.     But  the  army  was 
without  pay.     In  order  to  extricate  herself  from 
her  embarrassments,  she,  by  the   advice   of  her 
council,  concluded  a  treaty  of  aUiance  with  the 
King  of  Spain.     The  sanction  of  the  Parliament 
to  this  treasonable  proceeding  was  despaired  of, 
but  the  Dukes,  with  the   view  of  involving   the 
magistrates  in  its  consequences,   persuaded  her 
to  give  public   audience  to  Don  Joseph  Ozorio, 
the    Ambassador   sent  to   her    by    his   Cathohc 

Majesty. 

This  hazardous  step  had  well-nigh  led  to  a 
catastrophe.  The  magistrates,  although  carried 
along  by  the  popular  torrent,  had,  from  the  be- 
ginning, regarded  with  dishke  and  apprehension 
the  presence  and  conduct  of  the  Dukes.  This 
last  act  of  defiance  effectually  roused  their 
national  spirit  into   energetic  opposition.     They 


were  the  champions  of  their  country's  hberties, 
not  the  abettors  of  its  hereditary  enemies.  Far 
from  faUing  into  the  trap  laid  for  them,  they 
passed  a  decree  of  outlawry  against  the  Am. 
bassador  and  all  who  favoured  him.  The  un- 
compromising condemnation  of  the  Parliament 
irritated  the  Princess's  Council,  and  especially 
stung  the  haughty  soul  of  Bouillon.  He  was 
skilled,  in  an  unusual  degree,  in  the  more 
dangerous  arts  of  a  demagogue,  in  stirring  up 
the  foul  dregs  which,  is  times  of  political  disorder, 
rise  from  the  secret  cfiverns  of  society  to  float  and 
fester  on  its  surface,  thet'igns  and  agents  of  public 
calamity.  He  now  wielded  the  weapons  of  sedition 
with  terrible  effect. 

On  the  second  day  after  that  on  which  the  ob- 
noxious decree  was  passed,  an  armed  mob,  breath- 
ing vengeance,  surrounded  the  Palace  of  Justice. 
The  Parliament,  seeing  itself  in  imminent  danger 
of  being  massacred,  sent  pressing  messages  to 
Bouillon  and  La  Rochef  oucault,  imploring  them  to 
still  the  tumult  they  had  raised ;  but  the  Dukes 
refused  to  interfere.  An  appeal  was  then  made 
to  the  Princess,  who  had  been  left  in  ignorance 
of  the  commotfon.  She  instantly  hurried  to  the 
scene  of  danger.  Her  appearance  somewhat 
calmed  the   fury  of  the  multitude ;  and,  passing 

E   2 


76 


througli  a  lane  hedged  by  dense  masses  of  human 
beings,  whom  senseless  rage  had  changed  mto 
wild  beasts,  she  entered  the  House  of  Assembly, 
and  entreated  the  magistrates   to   rescind   their 
decree.     These  brave  men  scorned  to  purchase 
their  lives  at  the  price  of  dishonour.     She  returned 
to  the  mob  and  besought  it  to  disperse.     The 
mob  replied  by  an  angry  roar  of  imprecation  and 
menace,  hoarse  and  confused  as  the  raving  of  the 
sea.     While  she  vainly  tried  argument  and  sup- 
plication, the  measured  tramp  of  a  military  force 
announced  the  advance  of  the  city  train-bands  to 
rescue  the   magistrates.     In  a  few  moments  the 
cries  and  the  crash  of  a  fierce  conflict  rose  upon 
the  air.     The  horrors  of  a  fratricidal  struggle,  per- 
haps the  destruction  of  the  city,  were  averted  by 
an   act   of   subhme  courage  on  the  part  of   the 
Princess.     Turning  to  her  attendants,  she  bade 
those  who  loved  her  follow  her,  and  threw  herself 
between  the  hostile  ranks.     A  hundred  swords, 
some  of    them    already    crimsoned  with  blood, 
clashed  around  her;  but  the  humane  feeling  that 
rendered  her  fearless,  seemed  to  render  her  invul- 
nerable.   The  combatants,  touched  by  her  prayers 
and  her  self-devotion,  paused.     A  moment^s  res- 
pite was  sufficient  to  allow  outraged  reason  to 
resume  her  empire ;  to  allow  the  fearful  conse- 


77 


quences  of  their  suicidal  frenzy  to  flash  upon  the 
minds  of  all.  Claire  skilfully  seized  this  moment 
of  horror  and  remorse,  and  persuaded  the  repentant 
multitude  to  disperse  quietly  to  their  homes.  On 
the  following  day  Don  Joseph  Ozorio  departed  from 
Bordeaux ;  and,  as  the  pressure  of  hostilities  began 
to  be  felt,  the  Parliament,  alarmed  for  the  safety 
of  the  city,  gave  the  Princess  more  cordial  support, 
and  sent  deputies  to  solicit  the  intervention  of  the 
Parliament  of  Paris. 

Meanwhile  the  Regent  and  Cardinal  Mazarin 
had  advanced  into  Champagne  to  oppose  the 
Archduke  Ferdinand  and  Turenne.  But  the 
campaign  was  bloodless.  The  military  talents  of 
the  great  French  General  were  rendered  of  no 
avail  by  the  slow  incapacity  of  the  Archduke  and 
the  deplorable  condition  of  the  Spanish  army. 
Having  wasted  some  weeks  in  fruitless  demonstra- 
tions, the  Spaniards  retired  ingloriously  across 
the  frontier. 

The  Minister  was  now  at  liberty  to  turn  his 
whole  attention  to  domestic  troubles.  The  revolt 
of  Bordeaux  was  hourly  assuming  a  more  alarm- 
ing aspect  for  the  Court.  The  eyes  of  the  whole 
kingdom  were  rivetted  by  the  extraordinary 
spectacle  of  a  young  Princess,  without  the  slightest 
poHtical  knowledge  or  experience^  hitherto   an 


78 

object  of  compassion  or  of  contempt  in  the  exclu- 
sive circles  to  whicli  she  was  known,  suddenly,  as 
it  seemed,  endowed  by  the  spirit  of  love  with  all 
the    attributes   of  Minerva,  leading   conquering 
armies,  ruling  councils  of  astute  politicians,  sway- 
ing popular  assemblies,  in  a  cause  that  appealed 
most  directly  to  the  sympathies  of  every  French- 
man—the cause  of  a  wife  and  mother,  in  arms  to 
save  her  young  son,  to   extricate  her  illustrious 
husband  from  the  toils  of  a  crafty  foreign  adven- 
turer.    The  tide  of  public  feeling,  ever  subject  to 
rapid  changes  among  a  sensitive  and  high-spirited 
people,  had  set  in  strongly  in  her  favour.     The 
adherents  of  the  Princes,  lately  cowed  and  power- 
less,  were  raising  their  heads  in  all  parts  of  the 
kingdom.      The  alliance  between  the  Court  and 
the  Fronde  was  growing  cold,  and  De  Eetz  ap- 
peared to  have  accomplished  the  miracle  of  fixing 
in  his   own  interests   the   unstable   purposes  of 
Gaston  of  Orleans.     The  Parliament  of  Paris  gave 
a  fraternal  welcome  to  the  deputation  from  the 
Parliament  of  Bordeaux,  and  showed  a  decided 
disposition  to  take  part  with  the  citizens  against 
the  Duke  of  Epemon.     There  was  little  doubt 
but  that  the  other  great  judicial  bodies  of  the 
kingdom  would  follow  the  lead  of  the  Parliament 
of  Paris.     Mazarin  saw  that  the  rebellion  was  a 


79 

flame  which,  if  not  promptly  extinguished,  would 
consume  him.  Collecting  all  available  reinforce- 
ments, he  put  himself  at  their  head,  and  reaching 
Guienne  by  rapid  marches,  assumed  the  direction 
of  the  war.  The  Queen,  taking  with  her  Made- 
moiselle de  Montpensier  as  a  hostage  for  the 
fidelity  of  the  Lieutenant-General,  followed  at  a 
little  distance  the  movements  of  the  army. 

The  first  operation  of  the  Cardinal  was  to  lay 
siege  to  the  Castle  of  Yayres  on  the  Dordogne. 
Its  commander,  a  valiant  bourgeois  of  Bordeaux, 
named  Kichon,  made  an  obstinate  defence,  but  the 
place  fell,  through  the  treachery  of  one  of  the 
garrison.     In  order  to  strike  terror  into  the  in- 
surgents, Mazarin  ordered  Richon  to  be  hanged 
as  a  traitor.     He   also   gave   directions  that  the 
Chateau  of  Yerteuil,   in  Poitou,  the   ancient  and 
magnificent  seat  of  the  Dukes  of  la  Rochef  oucault, 
with  its  unique  literary  and  artistic  treasures,  and 
its  proud  historical  memorials,  should  be  burned 
to  the  ground.     It  was  among  the  most  cherished 
recollections    of    the    illustrious    family    of    La 
Rochef  oucault  that  the  Emperor  Charles  Y.  had 
been  entertained  at   Yerteuil,  and  had   said  on 
parting  from   his  host,  "he  had  never   entered  a 
house  which  showed  more  of  grandeur,  courtesy, 
and  virtue."     The  present  Duke,  himself  one  of 


l^ 


80 


81 


tlie  brighest  ornaments  of  Ms  line,  received  tlie- 
tidings   of  his  irreparable  loss   with   composure, 
merely  remarking  that  it  was  another  sacrifice  for 
the  adorable   Madame   de  Longueville.     But  the 
barbarous  policy  of  the  minister  had  a  precisely 
opposite  effect   from  that  intended  by  its  author. 
The  indignation  it   aroused  bound  together  all 
classes  in  Bordeaux   in   cordial   union  for  the  de- 
fence of  the  city;  and  it  provoked  instant  reprisals. 
The  tears  and  prayers  of  the  Princess  saved  the 
three  hundred  prisoners,  captured  in  the  Island  of 
St.  George,  from  the  vengeance  of  the  populace, 
but   a   council   of  war   unanimously  decreed  the 
immediate  execution  of  the  Chevaher  de  CanoUes- 
The  popular  manners  and  brilliant  social  qualities 
of  the   unfortunate    Canolles    had    made    him  a 
general  favourite.     Being  allowed  free  range  of 
the  town  on   parole,  he  was  the  soul  of  all  festive 
gatherings,    and   the   news  of  his  sentence  was 
brought  to   him  while  feasting    in  gay   abandon 
with  a  party  of  friends.     He  heard  the  announce- 
ment   with  a    smile,  believing  it  to  be  a  jest. 
Claire  strove  hard  to  ob  tain  for  him  a  reprieve,  or 
at  least  a  short  respite  from  his  doom,  hoping  to 
contrive  his  escape  from  the  city.   But  her  Council 
was  inexorable,  the  stem  laws  of  war  and  the 
public  anger    imperatively  demanding  a  victim* 


The  Chevalier  was  led  out  to  death  without  even 
being  permitted  to  see  a  minister  of  religion. 
The  people  would  not  suffer  such  unprofitable 
delay ;  they  said  that,  "  being  a  Mazarin,  he  must 
necessarily  be  damned." 

The  Duke  of  Bouillon  also  ordered  the  demoli- 
tion of  the  country  house  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Bordeaux.  These  vigorous  measuresof  retaliation 
not  only  put  a  stop  to  military  executions,  but 
seem  to  have  arrested  the  unfinished  work  of 
destruction  at  Verteuil. 

The  Royal  Army  next  attacked  the  Island  of 
St.  George.     The  garrison,  consisting  of  twelve 
hundred  picked  men,  finding  themselves  cut  off 
from  communication  with  Bordeaux  by  batteries, 
which   Marshal  la   Meillerai   planted   along    the 
banks  of  the  Garonne,  lost  heart,  and  surrendered 
after  a  feeble  resistance.     All  the  approaches  of 
the  city  were  now  in   possession  of  the  RoyaUsts. 
The   Bordelais  had  made  incredible  efforts  to 
put  their  town  in   an   efficient  state  of  defence. 
The  impediments  were,  in  truth,  such  as  only  the 
most   resolute  and   persevering    courage    could 
overcome.     A  very  short  time  had   sufficed  to 
show  the  value  of  the  vaunting   professions  of 
Spain.      The   absolute  ruler  of  the  magnificent 
empire  upon  which  the  sun  never  set  was  unable 

E  5 


!♦ 


82 


to  aid  tliem  with  a  single  musket  or  a  single 
doubloon.  Their  military  chest  was  empty.  The 
Princess  had  pawned  her  last  jewel.  The  pay  of 
the  army  was  months  in  arrear.  The  ancient  for- 
tifications of  the  city  had  crumbled  into  ruin. 
Skilled  engineers  and  the  material  of  war  were 
wanted  for  the  creating  and  the  arming  of  new 
ramparts.  But  the  extraordinary  popularity  of 
the  Princess,  the  enthusiasm  and  high  military 
qualities  of  the  Gascons,  the  energy  and  example 
of  the  Dukes,  and,  more  than  all,  the  fertile 
genius  of  Bouillon,  supphed  every  deficiency. 

The  weakest  point  in  the  approaches  to  the 
city,  and  the  most  exposed  to  attack,  was  the 
Faubourg  St.  Surin,  leading  to  the  gate  of 
Dijcaux.  This  Faubourg  was  formed  by  one  or 
two  open  streets,  and  contained  the  Archbishop^s 
palace,  and  the  ruins  of  a  Roman  amphitheatre, 
said  to  have  been  built  by  the  Emperor  Gallienus. 
Bouillon,  seeing  the  danger  of  allowing  it  to  be 
occupied  by  the  Royalists,  spared  no  pains  in  for- 
tifying it ;  and  he  was  seconded  by  the  citizens 
with  untiring  zeal.  The  whole  population,  with- 
out distinction  of  rank,  age,  or  sex,  turned  out  to 
labour  at  the  works.  Claire,  her  ladies,  and  the 
little  Duke  of  Enghien  shared  the  toils  and 
dangers  of  the  meanest  citizen.     Defences  sprang 


83 

up  as  if  by  enchantment.  The  streets  were  closed 
by  strong  barricades.  The  buildings  on  either 
side  were  converted  into  fortresses,  loop-holed 
and  garrisoned.  Practised  marksmen  swarmed  in 
the  adjacent  vine-yards ;  and  out  of  a  heap  of 
rubbish  accumulated  before  the  gate  of  Dijeaux, 
Bouillon,  with  admirable  skill,  constructed  a  half- 
moon. 

As  the  Duke  had  foreseen.  Marshal  la  Meillerai, 
renowned   for    success    in    sieges,    selected  the 
Faubourg  St.  Surin  as  the  chief  point  of  attack. 
Choice  troops,  with  strong  supports,  advanced  to 
the  assault,  under  the   eye   of  Cardinal  Mazarin. 
A  withering  fire  in  front  and  flank  staggered  the 
foremost  columns,  but,  quickly  re-forming  under 
cover  of  their  artillery,  they  charged  the  barricades. 
They  were  met  with  equal  resolution,  and  for  many 
hours  the  combat  raged,  furious  with  all  the  mer- 
ciless  fury  of   civil  war.      Through   the  ruined 
amphitheatre,  through  the    crashing  vine-yards, 
through  the  shattered  barricades,  the  crimson  tide  of 
battle    rolled    and   ebbed.       Soon  a  thick  pall 
of  smoke,  rent  by  flashing  bolts  of  death,  and 
lurid  with  the  glare  of  burning  houses,  partially 
shrouded  the  horrors  of  the  scene.     But  the  ring- 
ing volleys  of  musketry,  the  tramp  and  clash  of 
charging  ranks,  the  fierce  cries  of  the  combatants. 


84 


85 


the  groans  of  the  dying,  blent  together  in  all  the 
maddening  tumult  of  battle,  pierced  the  sulphur- 
ous war-cloud,  and  bore  tidings  to  the  women 
and  the  old  men,  who  with  straining  eyes  and 
ghastly  faces  crowded  every  roof  and  steeple  of 
the  city,  of  the  stern  animosity  and  varying  for- 
tunes of  the  fight.  On  this  bloody  day  the  Gas- 
cons well  maintained  their  ancient  renown.  They 
repulsed  with  terrible  slaughter  six  successive 
assaults  of  the  Eoyal  troops,  the  soldiers  of  Rocroi 
and  Lens,  trained  to  victory  by  Cond^  and  Turenne. 
And  never  did  the  Gascon  annals,  rich  as  they  are 
in  great  deeds  of  arms  and  in  lives  of  famous 
captains,  embalm  the  fame  of  leaders  more  worthy 
of  a  gallant  people.  Wherever  the  danger 
gathered  thickest,  wherever  the  spirit  of  the 
defenders,  oppressed  by  superior  numbers,  was 
seen  to  flag,  wherever  their  closing  ranks  rushed 
with  new  ardour  upon  the  foe,  there,  conspicuous 
to  all,  animating  and  sustaining  all,  was  the 
impetuous  courage  of  La  Rochefoucault,  or  the 
serene  intrepidity  of  Bouillon.  It  was  only  in 
the  evening,  when,  thinned  by  carnage  and  faint 
with  toil,  that  an  overwhelming  onset  of  fresh 
troops  drove  back  the  Bordelais  into  their  town. 
On  the  following  day  La  Meillerai  pushed  his 
operations  against  the  half -moon  before  the  gate 


of  Dijeaux.  It  was  a  feeble  out-work,  only  six 
feet  high,  and  hastily  constructed  out  of  a  dung 
heap.  But  its  defence  illustrated  well  the  old 
Spartan  n^axim,  that  courage  is  stronger  than 
stone  walls.  Day  after  day  carefully  chosen 
storming  parties,  thrown  by  the  Marshal  against 
this  frail  barrier,  were  flung  back  in  utter  rout, 
leaving  pyramids  of  their  slain  as  ghastly  monu- 
ments of  the  indomitable  valour  of  the  citizens. 
After  thirteen  days  of  incessant  fighting  it  became 
evident  to  the  Royalist  generals  that,  in  order  to 
reduce  the  city  speedily,  it  would  be  necessary  to 
resort  to  a  bombardment. 

But  Cardinal  Mazarin  was  naturally  averse  to 
extreme  measures ;  and  he  knew  that,  in  destroy- 
ing such  a  flourishing  commercial  mart,  he  would 
deal  a  fatal  blow  at  the  prosperity  of  France,  and 
heap  everlasting  odium  upon  himself.  The  critical 
situation  of  his  affairs,  however,  rendered  an 
immediate  termination  of  the  civil  war  of  the 
last  moment  to  him.  Turenne,  beating  and  out- 
manoeuvering  two  French  Marshals,  had  made  a 
rapid  march,  at  the  head  of  a  body  of  cavalry, 
upon  Vincennes,  with  the  design  of  surprising 
the  castle  and  releasing  the  Princes.  Gaston  of 
Orleans,  who,  as  Lieutenant  General  of  the  King- 
dom, had  remained  in  the  direction  of  affairs  at 


I 


86 


87 


Paris,  removed  his  cousins  in  time.  But  instead  of 
transferring  them  to  Havre,  as  the  Court  desired, 
he  placed  them  in  the  Castle  of  Marcoussy,  which 
belono-ed  to  the  Count  of  Entragues,  an  adherent 
of  his  own.      The  Regent  and  Cardinal  Mazarm 
learned,  with  equal  mortification  and  alarm,  that 
their  prisoners  had  passed    from   their  control. 
Orleans  had  become  the  mere    puppet   of    the 
Minister's  most  dangerous  rival,   De  Retz ;  and 
the  custody  of  Conde  made  the  factious  and  weak- 
minded  Duke  arbiter  of  France.     The  Parliament 
of  Paris  had  sent  deputies  to  mediate  between  the 
Government  and  the  Parhament  of  Bordeaux,  and 
was  hourly  faUing  into  a  less  compHant  mood. 
The  Spaniards    were  again  in   strength   on  the 
northern  frontier.     A  resort  to  the  extremities  of 
war,  and  a  prolonged  siege,  seemed  alike  to  bo 
fraught    with    disastrous   consequences    for    the 
Cardinal.      "  The  affair,"  he  said,  "  was  a  thistle 
which  pricked  on  every   side.''      He  extricated 
himself  from  his  dilemma  with  great  address. 

In  feigned  deference  to  the  authority  of  the 
Parliament  of  Paris,  he  allowed  their  commis- 
sioners to  open  negotiations  with  the  citizens  of 
Bordeaux,  and  to  intimate  that  he  was  disposed 
to  grant  favourable  terms  of  peace.  The  Borde- 
lais,   on  their  part,   were   well    incHned    to    an 


honourable  accommodation.  The  struggle  had 
already  overtaxed  their  resources.  They  felt 
their  inability  to  sustain,  single-handed,  a  pro- 
tracted contest  against  the  Crown ;  and  the  aid 
which  they  had  been  led  to  expect  from  the  Duke 
of  la  Force  and  other  powerful  neighbours  had 
failed  them.  But  what  influenced  them  most  was 
the  consideration  that  the  vintage  season  had  set 
in.  A  Httle  longer  delay,  and  the  whole  of  the 
year's  produce  of  the  vineyards,  in  which  their 
wealth  consisted,  would  be  spoiled.  An  honour- 
able reluctance  to  fail  in  their  engagements  with 
the  Princess  and  the  Dukes  alone  caused  them  to 
hesitate.  But  Claire  and  her  Council,  with  great 
magnanimity,  voluntarily  released  them  from  their 
pledges,  and  requested  them  to  consult  only  their 
own  interests.  The  Gascons  were  incapable  of 
abusing  this  generosity.  To  insist  on  the  libera- 
tion of  the  Princes  would  be  useless,  but  the 
envoys  despatched  by  the  city  to  the  royal  camp 
were  instructed  to  guard  the  interests  of  its  allies 
as  jealously  as  its  own.  The  magistrates  from 
Paris  assumed  the  functions  of  arbitrators,  and, 
after  a  few  conferences,  a  treaty  containing  the 
most  indulgent  conditions  for  the  insurgents  was 
signed.  It  stipulated  that  the  Princess  should 
enjoy  all  her  revenues  unmolested,    and  should. 


88 

moreover,  for  her  security,  be  allowed  to  garrison 
Montrond  witli  one  hundred  and  fifty  men  at  tlie 
public  expense ;  that  the  confederate  nobles  should 
be  received  into    favour,   and    restored    to   the 
estates,  honours,  and  employments  they  had  pos- 
sessed  at  the  breaking  out  of  the  war ;  and  that  a 
general  amnesty  should  be  proclaimed.     It  was 
also  agreed,  but  in  order  to  save  the  dignity  of  the 
Crown,   by   a   secret  article,  that   the   Duke   of 
Epernon  should  be  recalled,  and  a  Governor,  ap- 
proved by  the  citizens,  appointed  in  his  stead. 
Thus  ended  the  famous  war  of  Bordeaux. 

The  Princess  and  the  Dukes  immediately  pre- 
pared to  quit  the  city  in  which  they  had  won  so 
much  renown.     Before  her  departure  Claire  dis- 
tributed all  her  remaining  funds  for  the  relief  of 
the  wounded  and  destitute  officers  of  her  party. 
The  Parliament,  as  a  public  mark  of  the  love  and 
veneration  of  the  citizens,  redeemed,  and  by  then- 
afiectionate  importunity,  forced  her  to  accept  the 
jewels  she  had  pawned  during  the  difficulties  of 
the  war.     She  was  privately  assured  that,  when 
the  grapes  had  been  gathered  in,  Bordeaux  would 
again  declare    in  favour  of  her  husband.     The 
whole  population  escorted  her  to  the  beautiful 
gaUey  presented  to  her  by  the  city,  in  which  she 
was  to  ascend  the  river  on  her  way  to  Courtras. 


89 


As  the  fairy  vessel,  bounding  over  the  bright 
waters  of  the  Garonne,  bore  her  weeping  from  the 
scene  of  her  glory,  farewell  cheers,  mingled  with 
sobs  and  loud  lamentations,  spoke  the  grief  and 
love  of  the  Gascons. 

On  her  voyage   she  was  met  by  Marshal  la 
Meillerai,  who  invited  her  to   pay  a  visit  to  the 
Kegent,  at   Bourg,  a  village  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Dordogne,  where  the  Court  had  resided   during 
the  siege.     She  consented,  though  with  reluctance. 
She  was  ill  and  dispirited;  she  knew  the  haughty^ 
\mf orgiving  temper  of  Anne  of  Austria ;  but  she 
scrupled  to  cast  away  even  the  faintest  chance  of 
serving  her  husband.     The  whole  Court  crowded 
forth  to  see  the  heroine  it  had  so  lately  despised, 
and  with   whose   fame  all   France  was  ringing. 
The  Eegent  received  her  in  a  private  audience,  at 
which  the  young  King,  Mademoiselle  de  Mont- 
pensier,   and    Cardinal    Mazarin    were    present. 
Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier  has  left  ^s  in  her 
memoirs  a  graphic,  but  most  unfriendly  descrip- 
tion of  what   passed.     With  ungenerous  malice, 
she  ridicules  the  woe-stricken  appearance  and  the 
negligent  toilette    of  the  young   Princess.     But 
the    unconcealed     partiality    of     the    "  Grande 
Mademoiselle''  for  Conde,  led  her  to  dislike  and 
disparage  Conde's  wife ;  and  more  impartial  ob- 


90 


servers  bear  testimony  to  tlie  gentle  dignity  and 
affecting  demeanour  of  the  object  of  her  jealous 
scorn.     Without    deigning    to    notice    Mazarin, 
Claire  knelt  before  the  Regent,  humbly  entreating 
that  her  husband   might  be  restored  to  liberty. 
Anne   of  Austria  returned  a  cold   and  somewhat 
ungracious  answer,  and  the  interview  terminated. 
The  Cardinal  immediately  afterw^ards  paid  Claire 
a  visit,  and  met  with  a  chilling  reception.     He, 
however,  had  long   and   confidential  discussions 
with  Bouillon,  La  Rochefoucault,  and  Lenet  on  the 
state  of  pubhc  affairs,  but  could  not  be  induced 
to  give  a  definite  pledge  to  release  the  captive 
Princes.     During  these  fruitless  negociations  the 
Princess    resumed    her    interrupted   journey    to 
Courtras,   whence,   after  a   short  delay,  she  pro- 
ceeded to  Montrond.     The  party  at  Bourg  soon 
separated.     The    Court  moved  forward  for    the 
public  entry    of  the   sovereigns   into    Bordeaux. 
Bouillon  retired  to  Auvergne,  and  La  Rochefoucault 
turned  his   steps   to   Poitou,  to   mourn  over  the 
blackened  ruins  of  his  venerable  chateau. 

It  is  not  often  that  the  critical  judgment  of 
posterity  ratifies  the  verdict  of  contemporary 
enthusiasm  so  completely  as  in  the  case  of  the 
young  Princess  of  Conde.  History  affords  few 
examples  of  such  sterling  and  various  excellence 


91 

as  aaire   de   Maill6   Breze  exhibited  during  her 
brief    appearance   on  the  political  stage.      Her 
cause  was  the  most  sacred  of   all  causes  for  a 
woman,  and  was  politically  just;   the  imprison- 
ment  of  Conde,  however  criminal  his   conduct, 
being  manifestly  illegal.     Of  her   measures   to 
vindicate  it,  that  which  alone  at  that  anarchical 
period  was  open  to  censure,  the  Spanish  alliance, 
must  fairly  be  ascribed  to  the  overruling  influence 
of  her  council.  Wherever  her  own  noble  nature  had 
free  play,  her  actions  excite  only  admiration.    Her 
modest  wisdom,  her  unselfish  courage,  her  mar- 
vellous eloquence,  her  magnanimous  spirit,  ever 
soaring  above  the  rage  of  ignoble  passions,  and 
the  conflict    of    petty    interests,    her    womanly 
virtues,  softening  with  their  tender  poetry  the 
horrors  of   civil  war,  blooming   so  freshly   and 
sweetly   in   the   unwholesome    atmosphere   of   a 
corrupt  society,  and  the  cold  shadow  of  conjugal 
neglect,  combine  to  form  one  of  the  brightest  and 
loveliest  of  those  pictures  of  feminine  worth  upon 
which  the   eye  lingers  with   delight,  amidst  so 
much  that  is  tawdry  and  so  much  that  is  repulsive 
in  the  long  dim  galleries  of  history. 


92 


CHAPTER  III. 


We  left  Conde^  Conti,  and  Longueville  in  the 
prison  fortress  of  Yincennes  on  the  night  that 
followed  their  arrest.  Their  imprisonment  wa3 
of  the  severest  character.  They  had  for  jailor 
the  Sieur  de  Bar^  a  rude,  harsh  soldier,  who 
guarded  them  with  the  most  jealous  vigilancOj 
having  pledged  his  word  to  the  Eegent  to  stab 
Cond^to  the  heart  rather  than  permit  him  to  escape. 
Seven  soldiers  kept  watch  over  them  night  and 
day,  the  descent  of  the  Duke  of  Beaufort  from  the 
same  donjon  keep  into  the  moat  beneath,  a  feat 
which  had  been  supposed  to  require  the  wings  of 
a  bird,  showing  the  need  of  extraordinary  pre- 
cautions. The  entertainment  provided  for  them 
by  the  Regent  was  of  the  most  frugal  description. 
They  were  required  to  supply  themselves  with 
everything  beyond  the  bare  necessaries  of  life  at 
their  own  charge.     Conde  angrily  refused  to  give 


93 


any  orders  to  his  steward,  saying  he  would  rather 
starve.     When  his  resolve  was  reported  to  the 
Regent,  she  said,  with  sarcastic  composure,  "  Let 
him  starve  then,^*  and  for  some  days  the  Princes 
lived  on  the  coarse  prison  fare.     But  Longueville, 
who  was  not  a  hero,  and  did  not  feel  called  upon 
to  assume  the  character,  soon  tired  of  aggravating 
the  hardships  of  his  lot,  and  undertook,  much  to 
Conde^s  secret  satisfaction,  the  office  of  caterer. 
Intelligence  of  the  condition  of  the  prisoners  oc- 
casionally got  abroad  through  a  physician  named 
Dalence,  who  was  permitted  to  pay  them  periodical 
visits.     Conti  passed  his  days  and  nights  in  prayer 
and  lamentation.     Longueville,  when  not  racked 
by  gout,  was  generally  moody  and  silent,  sunk 
in  the  torpor  of   despair.      Conde  sang,  swore, 
heard  mass,  played  at  battledoor  and  shuttlecock, 
dined   with    an   excellent    appetite,   and    reared 
flowers.     When  Conti  asked  in  piteous  tones  for 
the  "  Imitation  of  Christ,''  Conde  shouted  for  an 
imitation   of  the   Duke   of   Beaufort.     One   day 
during  the  war  of  Bordeaux,  Dalence  found  the 
elder  Prince  cultivating  pinks  on  the  terrace  of  the 
donjon,  and  narrated   to   him  the  events    of  the 
siege.      ^^  Who   would  have  believed,''  said  the 
hero  of  Rocroi,  "  that  my  wife  would  wage  war 
while  I  watered  my  garden  !" 


94 

The  friends  of    tlie  prisoners,  and  especially 
MadamedeLongueville,  were  unceasingly  occupied 

in  contriving  the  means  of  their  escape  and  secret 
methods  of  communication.      The  crown  pieces 
which  the  Kegent  permitted  her  captives  to  receive 
for  play,  were  scooped  out,  and  made  vehicles  of 
intelligence.     Bottles  of  wine,  with  false  bottoms, 
served  the  same  purpose.     A  crutch  destined  to 
support  the  feeble  steps   of   Conti   contamed    a 
rapier  for  his  warlike  brother.      The  chief  agent 
of  Madame  de  LongueviUe  was  Gourville,  one  of 
the  most  extraordinary  of  the  many  emment  adven- 
turers  who  achieved  political  distinction  m  that 
eventful  age.     Gourville  had  begun  life  as  a  lackey 
of  the  Duke  of  la  Rochef oucault,  and  had  risen  from 
this  menial  station  to  be  the  confidential  secretary 
and  councillor  of  his  ambitious  and  keen-witted 
master.  His  advancement  allowed  him  scope  forthe 
display  of  capacity,  courage,  and  adroitness  which 
soon  won  for  him  an  unrivalled  reputation  m  the 
conduct  of   difficult   and  hazardous  enterprises; 
and  his  curious  memoirs  give  us  pictures  of  the 
personages  and  events  of  the  time  hardly  inferior 
in  interest  and  value  to  those  of  La  Rochef  oucault 
himself.      During  one  of  his  visits  to  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Yincennes,  Gourville  found  means  to 
gain  over  three  of  the  seven  soldiers  who  guarded 


95 


Conde.     It  was  arranged  that  on  a  certain  Sunday 
afternoon,  while  De  Bar  was  attending  Vespers, 
the  Prince  and  his  accomplices  should  fall  on  the 
four  other  guards,  disarm  and  gag  them,  and,  by 
means  of  a  rope,  descend  into  the  castle   moat. 
Gourville  undertook  to  have  a  body  of  horsemen 
in  readiness  to  receive  the  fugitives  and  convey 
them  to  a  place  of  safety.      This  was  not  a  more 
difficult  achievement  than  the  escape  of  the  Duke 
of  Beaufort.  But  on  the  eve  of  its  proposed  execu- 
tion one  of  the  soldiers  who  had  been  suborned  was 
seized  with  remorse.     Entering  a  church  in  Paris, 
he  delivered  a  paper  containing  hints  of  the  plot  to 
a  priest  engaged  in  one  of  the  confessionals.    The 
priest  at  once  forwarded  the  document  to  the  Coad- 
jutor, whose  lynx-eyed  suspicion  divined  the  truth. 
Without  losing  a  moment  he  caused  the  guards 
at  Yincennes  to  be  changed,  and  sent  .Beaufort  to 
scour  the  adjacent  country  with  a  strong  force  of 
cavalry.     Though  thus  mysteriously  baffled,  Gour- 
ville   was    not    disheartened.      He   had  almost 
matured  another  promising  scheme  for  the  hbera- 
tion  of  the  captives,  when  their  sudden  removal 
to  Marcoussy  disconcerted  his  plans. 

Marcoussy  was  a  strong  and  commodious  castle, 
seated  on  an  island  in  the  middle  of  a  lake  within 
a  few  leagues^  distance  of  Paris.     It  was  here  that 


96 

Henry  lY.  tad  wooed   Henriette  d'Entragues, 
to  whose  family  the  castle  belonged.     Being  a  pri- 
vate residence  as  well  as    a  fortress,  it  allowed 
greater  facilities  of  escape  than  Vincennes,  and  the 
Princes,  though  still  attended  by  De  Bar,  found 
themselves   under  less  severe  restraint.       Their 
friends  did  not  fail  to   avail  themselves  of  this 
favourable  change  of  circumstances.     A  Marechal 
de  Camp,  named  Arnaud,  caused  a  boat  to  be  con- 
structed  of  boiled  leather,  which,  admitting   of 
being  rolled  up  in  a  small  compass,  might  be  con- 
veyed to  the  shore  of  the  lake  without  attractmg 
observation.     He  engaged  to  paddle  across  m  the 
nicht  to  the  base  of  the  castle  wall.     The  fidelity 
of  °a  soldier  of  the  garrison  had  been  corrupted  ; 
and,  with  this  man's  assistance,  the  Princes  were 
to    slay    the    other  guards    as   they   slept,  and 
let  themselves  down  into  the  boat.       A  strong 
party  of   armed  gentlemen,  and  the  means  of  a 
rapid  flight  to  Conde's  town  of  Stenay,  awaited 
them  on  the  opposite  shore.     The  preparations  for 
this  daring  enterprise  were  completed,  and  it  was 
on  the  point  of  being  executed,  when  the  hopes 
of  the  prisoners   were  again  dashed  by  the  unex- 
pected  arrival  of  the  Count  of  Harcourt  with  an 
order  for  their  instant  removal  to  the  Citadel  of 
Havre. 


97 


The  unbroken  silence  in  which  the  Regent  and 
Cardinal  Mazarin  were  received  by  the  inhabitants 
of  Bordeaux,  on  the  occasion  of  their  public  entry 
into  that  city,  after  the  termination  of  the  war, 
offered  little  inducement  to  them  to  prolong  their 
absence  from  the  Capital,  where  the  perilous  con- 
dition of  affairs  urgently  demanded  their  presence. 
Turenne  and  the  Spaniards  had  again  invaded  the 
Northern  Provinces.  The  independent  action  of 
the  Duke  of  Orleans,  in  transferring  his  cousins 
to  Marcoussy,  and  in  opening  unauthorised  nego- 
tiations with  the  Archduke  Leopold,  and  the 
recent  hostile  attitude  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris, 
furnished  the  Government  with  grave  causes  of 
anxiety  and  alarm.  The  Regent,  thinking  that 
she  saw  the  hand  of  the  Coadjutor  in  the  un- 
friendly proceedings  of  Orleans  and  the  Magis- 
trates, was  deeply  incensed  against  that  prelate, 
and  hurried  back  to  repair  the  evils  effected  by 
his  policy.  She  was  detained  on  the  way  for  some 
weeks  by  a  dangerous  illness,  but,  when  suffi- 
ciently recovered  to  resume  her  journey,  she 
wrote  to  the  Lieutenant- General,  inviting  him  to 
meet  her  at  Fontainebleau.  De  Retz  and  Madame 
de  Chevreuse,  foreseeing  the  result  of  the  inter- 
view, implored  the  Duke  to  excuse  himself  from 
-compliance.     But  the  courage  of  Gaston  was  un- 

VOL.  II.  F 


98 


99 


equal  to  an  act  of  formal  disobedience.  Anne  of 
Austria^s  agents  skilfully  soothed  his  fears,  and 
after  pitiable  vaciUation,  he  set  out  in  great  trepi- 
dation of  mind  for  Fontainebleau,  having  first 
fortified  his  spirits  by  passing  his  word  to  De 
Ketz  under  no  circumstances  to  consent  to  the 
removal  of  the  captive  Princes  from  Marcoussy. 

On  the  night  of  Orleans' arrival  the  Regent  invited 
him  to  a  private  conference.  The  cowardly  Prince 
was  hke  wax  in  her  hands.     In  an  hour  she  had 
wrung  from  him  an  order  for  the  surrender  of  his 
cousins  to  her  own  keeping,  and  curtly  dismissed 
him  to  repose.     Relieved  from  the  immediate  in- 
fluence of  the  t  errible  spell  with  which  her  strong 
nature  enthralled  his,   and  left  to  his    own  re- 
flections, Gaston  passed  the  rest  of  the  night  dis- 
tracted by  rage,  fear  and  shame.     At  break  of  day 
he   called  for  pistols  and  a  horse,  and  galloping 
forth  like    one    demented,   wandered   for   hours 
through  the  forest,  lost  in  a  stupor  of  contending 
emotions.      On  his  return,  he  sought  Mazarin, 
complained  bitterly   of  the   unfair  stress  placed 
upon  his  inclinations  by  the  Regent,  and  demanded 
back   the  order.       The    Cardinal  was  blandness 
itself,  and  sent  to  summon  an  Under-Secretary  of 
State,   into  whose  hands  the  document  had  been 
passed.     By  one  of  those  happy  mischances  which 


the  Minister  found  so  convenient,  the  Under  Secre- 
tary could  not  be  discovered  until  late  in  the  day. 
It  then  appeared,  as  Mazarin  informed  Gaston  with 
expressions  of  lively  regret,  that  the  order  had 
been  at  once  despatched  to  the  new  Governor  of 
Normandy,  the  Count  of  Harcourt,  a  distinguished 
cadet  of  the  House  of  Guise,  and  a  zealous  ad- 
herent of  the  Government,  with  instructions  to 
escort  the  prisoners  to  the  Citadel  of  Havre,  which 
the  Duchess  of  Richelieu,  now  in  high  favour 
at  Court,  had  placed  at  the  disposal  of  the  Regent. 
The  same  day  saw  Cond6  and  his  brothers 
on  their  way  to  their  new  prison,  the  secure 
strensrth  of  which  shut  out  from  them  all  further 
hope  of  freedom.  Conde  bore  this  cruel  stroke  of 
fortune  with  his  usual  equanimity,  relieving  his 
disappointment  and  the  tedium  of  the  journey  by 
composing  the  following  well-known  lines  on  the 
celebrated  soldier  who  had  him  in  custody. 

Cet  homme  gros  et  court 

Si  fameux  dans  I'histoire 

Ce  grand  Comte  d' Harcourt 

Tout  rayonnant  de  gloire. 
Qui  secourut  Casal,  et  qui  reprit  Turin 
Est  maintenant  recors  de  Jules  Mazarin. 

A  load  of  care  was  now  hfted  from  the  mind  of 
Mazarin.  The  formidable  captive,  the  dread  fore- 
boding of  whose  restoration  to  freedom,  without 

p  2 


100 

his  concurrence,  had  for  months  oppressed  him 
like   a  nightmare,  was  again  in  his  own  hands. 
His   arch-enemy,  the  Coadjutor,  was  baffled  and 
apparently  powerless  ;  rebeUion  was  extinguished ; 
and  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  gratified  by  the  part 
it  had  played  during  the  war  of  Bordeaux,  seemed 
inclined  to  rest  from   agitation.     It  appeared  to 
the  Kegent  that  she  might  now  safely  indulge  her 
long-smothered    antipathy,   and  break   with  De 
Ketz.     Madame  de  Chevreuse,  who  had  followed 
Orleans  to  Fontainebleau  in  order  to  keep  him  steady 
to  his  pledge,  made  a  formal  application  for  the 
Cardinal's  hat  which  had  been  promised  to  the 
Coadjutor.  The  Regent  referred  the  matter  to  the 
Council  of   State,   and,   taking  advantage  of  the 
unexpected   opposition  of  Chateauneuf,  positively 
declined  to  fulfil  her  engagement.     Mazarin  then 
earnestly   counselled  her   not   to  return  to  Paris 
until  the  young  King  had  attained  his  majority, 
or  at  least  to   fix  her  residence  in  the  Louvre, 
which  was  strong  enough  to  repel  the  assaults  of 
an  insurgent    rabble,   and    afforded   convenient 
egress  to  the  country.      But  Anne  of  Austria, 
depressed  by  ill-health,  luxurious   in  her  habits, 
and  insensible  to  fear,  sighed  for  the  distractions 
of  the  Capital,  and  could  not  be  persuaded  to  ex- 
change the    ease  and  splendour   of  the  Palais 


101 

Royal  for  the  cheerless  discomfort  of  the  Louvre. 
The  Cardinal  accompanied  her  back  to  Paris,  but, 
after  a  short  stay,  set  out  for  Champagne  to  oppose 
Turenne  and  the  Spaniards.  He  carried  his  for- 
tunes with  him.  His  presence  with  the  French 
army  ushered  in  a  most  brilliant  campaign.  Rhetel 
was  taken  before  the  eyes  of  Turenne.  The 
Spanish  army  was  routed  in  a  decisive  battle ;  its 
great  Commander  escaped  from  the  field  with 
only  one  hundred  and  fifty  horse ;  and  in  a  few 
days  not  an  enemy  was  left  in  arms  on  the  soil  of 
France.  Mazarin  returned  again  to  Paris,  vic- 
torious over  all  his  foes.  Never  had  his  posi- 
tion in  France  appeared  so  lofty  and  so  secure. 
But  it  was  in  reality  undermined  by  a  secret 
cabal,  which  all  his  craft  had  failed  to  penetrate, 
and  a  single  false  move  might  send  it  crashing 
into  ruin. 

The  three  parties  which  distracted  the  State, 
the  Old  Fronde,  of  which  De  Retz,  Beaufort,  and 
Madame  de  Chevreuse  were  the  leading  spirits ; 
the  adherents  of  the  imprisoned  Princes,  who 
styled  themselves  the  New  Fronde ;  and  the  Court 
party,  popularly  known  as  Mazarins,  were  at  this 
time  not  unequally  represented  in  the  Parliament 
of  Paris.  The  advocates  of  the  Princes,  though 
numerically  the  weakest  section,  possessed  a  great 


102 


superiority  in  moral  power,  for  they  were  counte- 
nanced by  Mole,  De  Mesmes,  and  Omer  Talon, 
who  were  the   glory  of  the  Assembly;   staimch 
supporters   of  the   Eoyal    Authority  within  the 
limits  fixed  by  the  Declaration  of  October,  but 
also  faithful  guardians  of  the  constitution.      The 
cordial  union  of  any  two  of  these  parties  con- 
trolled the  Decrees  of  the  High  Court,  and  must, 
so  long  as  the  power  of  the  Crown  was  placed  in 
partial  abeyance  by  a  Eoyal  minority,   have  a 
decisive  political  effect.     Common  hatred  and  fear 
of  Conde  had  produced  the  extraordinary  coalition 
between    the    Court    and  the   Fronde,  between 
faction  and  authority,  which  resulted  in  his  over- 
throw.     The  popular  voice  had  applauded   the 
League;    the  Eegent  and  Mazarin  loaded  their 
new  alKes  with  favours  and  caresses  ;  De  Eetz 
was    ostensibly    admitted   to    the    most    secret 
counsels  of  the  Government ;  Madame  de  Chev- 
reuse  seemed  to  resume  her  old  place  in  the  heart 
of  her  mistress;  Beaufort  again  swaggered  in  the 
Eoyal  Presence  Chamber,  and  in  the  first  fever  of 
joy  and  triumph  deep-rooted  enmities  and  jarring 
interests  appeared  to  be  buried  in  oblivion.      But 
this  unnatural  alliance  could  not  be  permanent. 
Only  the  strong  motive  of  self-preservation  could 
have  compelled  such  antagonistic  elements  into  a 


103 


momentary  cohesion.     When  the  pressure  was  re- 
laxed, they  flew  asunder  from  an  inherent  principle 
of  repulsion.      It  would  have  been  as  consistent 
with  the  laws  of  nature  for  two  suns  to  shine  in 
the  same  firmament,  as  for  Mazarin  and  De  Eetz 
to  rule  in  harmony ;  and  each  was  devoured  by 
the  ambition  to  be   Prime  Minister  of  France. 
Contrary  to  the  wishes  and  intentions  of  his  con- 
federates, the  wily  Italian,  strong  in  the  unalterable 
attachment  of  Anne  of  Austria,  reaped  all  the  real 
advantages  of  the  coalition.    But  as  his  authority 
again  grew  manifestly  predominant,  the  popular 
favour  ebbed  from  him  with  increasing  rapidity. 
By  the   same  movement   it   flowed  towards  his 
captives.      The    gallant    defence    of    Bordeaux 
aroused  general  sympathy  for  Conde's  wife  and 
son.     The  misfortunes  of  the  hero  of  whom  they 
had  been  so  proud  touched  the  heart  of  a  martial 
and  generous  people.     The  besieger  of  Paris,  the 
fiery  enemy  of  popular  rights,  the  selfish  dictator, 
were  forgotten   in  the    Great    Captain  who  had 
so   weU  avenged  the  defeats   of  Pavia  and  St. 
Quentin.     This  revulsion  of  public  feeling   was 
watched  with  the  keenest  interest  by  De  Eetz. 
It  was  with  unutterable  rage  and  shame  that  the 
haughty  prelate  found  that,  notwithstanding  his 
brilliant   genius  and  his  unrivalled   talents  for 


104 


intrigue,  he  was  miserably  duped  by  the  un- 
scrupulous artifice  of  his  rival.  His  nomination 
by  the  Crown  for  a  CardinaFs  hat,  the  splendid 
reward  for  which  he  had  consented  to  exalt 
Mazarin  to  such  a  height  of  power,  was  first 
evaded,  and  afterwards  flatly  refused,  on  insulting 
pretexts  ;  while  the  support  he  afforded  the 
Minister  sensibly  diminished  the  popular  favour 
upon  which  his  own  power  was  based.  He  knew 
that  the  establishment  of  a  strong  executive  was 
incompatible  with  the  existence  of  an  authority 
springing  from  the  fierce  play  of  revolutionary 
passions ;  that  its  first  care  would  be  to  crush  the 
spirit  of  faction  which,  like  some  potent  magician 
of  Eastern  story,  he  had  evoked  to  minister  to  his 
behests.  Without,  therefore,  at  all  sharing  in  the 
new-born  sympathy  for  the  imprisoned  Princes 
which  pervaded  men^s  minds,  self-interest  and 
revenge  prompted  him  to  listen  eagerly  to  the 
suggestion  of  a  coahtion  between  the  Old  and  the 
New  Fronde  for  the  liberation  of  the  captives  and 
the  overthrow  of  Mazarin. 

The  idea  of  this  new  political  combination  origi- 
nated in  the  teeming  brain  of  Anne  of  Gonzaga, 
the  Princess  Palatine.  In  an  age  strongly 
coloured  by  the  influence  of  female  celebrities,  as 
remarkable  for    briUiant   intellectual    gifts    and 


105 


beauty  as  for  easy  profligacy  of  life,  Anne  of 
Gonzaga  was  pre-eminently  distinguished  by  her 
political  talents,  her  wit,  and  her  eccentric  gal- 
lantries. The  birth  and  connexions  of  this  ex- 
traordinary woman  were  illustrious.  Her  father, 
the  Duke  of  Mantua  and  Never s,  had  been 
expelled  from  his  Italian  principality  by  the 
Spaniards  on  account  of  his  French  extrac- 
tion, and  restored  by  the  arms  and  policy  of 
Kichelieu.  Mary  of  Gonzaga,  her  sister,  some 
years  before  one  of  the  brightest  ornaments  of 
the  Court  of  France,  and  the  prize  for  which  the 
aspiring  Cinq-Mars  rashly  staked  his  fortunes  and 
his  life,  was  now  Queen  of  Poland.  Her  own 
husband  was  a  younger  son  of  the  unfortunate 
King  of  Bohemia  and  Elizabeth  Stuart.  The 
story  of  her  amour  with  the  Duke  of  Guise,  as 
related  by  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier,  affords 
an  amusing  view  of  one  side  of  her  character. 

Guise,  the  representative  of  the  historic  family 
which  above  all  others  had  linked  its  name  in 
imperishable  renown  with  the  great  events  and 
the  mournful  tragedies  of  the  stormiest  and  most 
eventful  century  of  modern  history,  was  himself 
a  prodigy.  He  was  a  living  anachronism,  a 
knight -errant  instinct  with  the  adventurous  spirit 
of  the  11th  century,  flung,  as  it  were,  by  some 

P  5 


106 


cpnvulsion  of  the  moral  order,  into  the  age  of 
Louis  XIV.  Some  of  his  enterprises  might  have 
adorned  a  page  in  the  History  of  Amadis  de 
Gaul ;  all  of  them  were  more  or  less  tinged  with 
the  hues  of  romance.  He  lived  the  life  of  Sir 
Launcelot  at  a  time  when  even  what  was  most 
admirable  in  chivalry  was  withering  under  the 
immortal  satire  of  Cervantes.  Yet,  like  so 
many  of  the  mediasval  barons,  he  united  to  his 
passion  for  the  marvellous  considerable  practical 
ability.  During  the  most  notable  period  of 
his  career,  while  he  was  engaged  at  Naples,  after 
the  downfall  of  Massaniello,  in  endeavouring 
to  fix  on  his  own  head  the  crown  of  the  Two 
Sicilies,  he  displayed  talents  for  government  of 
no  mean  order.  But  the  tone  of  his  mind 
lent  to  everything  he  did  a  ridiculous  air  of 
exaggeration  ;  and  his  countrymen,  discriminating 
between  splendid  and  fantastic  exploits,  have 
styled  Guise  the  Hero  of  Romance,  Condd  the 
Hero  of  History. 

This  extraordinary  nobleman  was  titular  Arch- 
bishop of  Rheims.  His  episcopal  dignity,  how- 
ever, sat  lightly  upon  him.  He  paid  his  vows  at 
the  shrine  of  beauty  with  all  the  fervour  of  the 
joyous  chivalry  of  Languedoc  in  the  days  of 
the   Troubadours.      His    brilHant    quahties,   his 


107 


romantic  wooing,  and  the  resistless  spell  which 
daring  deeds  fling  around  the  imaginations  of 
women,  enslaved  the  sensitive  heart  of  Anne  of 
Gonzaga.  But,  alas  !  the  inconstancy  of  man  ! 
Guise,  growing  tired  of  his  conquest,  quitted  Paris 
rather  unceremoniously,  and  went  to  Brussels. 
The  Princess  pursued  him,  disguised  in  male 
attire ;  but,  finding  the  chase  hopeless,  she  assumed 
a  less  questionable  shape,  publicly  announced  her 
marriage  with  her  truant  lover,  and  styled  herself 
Madame  de  Guise.  Unfortunately  for  the  success 
of  this  decorous  fiction.  Guise,  with  strange  per- 
versity, precipitately  espoused  another  lady.  The 
Princess  bore  his  ingratitude  with  the  composure 
of  a  stoic,  quietly  resumed  her  maiden  style  and 
dignity,  and,  as  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier 
says,  returned  to  Paris  as  though  nothing  had 
happened. 

But,  to  an  irregular  fancy,  the  Princess  Palatine 
united  not  only  rare  capacity,  but  a  generous 
heart.  She  had  conceived  an  enthusiastic  admira- 
tion for  Conde,  and  the  Regent  had  given  her  just 
cause  of  dissatisfaction.  In  order  to  extricate  her 
hero,  she  laboured  with  consummate  skill  to  form 
a  political  combination,  which  would  have  ap- 
peared chimerical,  if  it  were  not  that,  in  the  words 
of    La  Rochefoucault,   "  all    things    happen   in 


108 


France/^  It  soon  became  manifest  that  her  toil 
was  not  fruitless.  The  young  Princess  of  Conde 
came  up  to  Paris  to  supplicate  the  intervention  of 
Parliament  against  the  illegal  detention  of  her 
husband.  Her  petition^  which  was  drawn  up  by 
Mole  in  terms  flattering  to  the  self-esteem  of  the 
Magistrates,  met  with  no  opposition  from  the 
adherents  of  De  Retz,  and  a  day  was  appointed 
for  taking  it  into  consideration.  After  this  first 
successful  move  the  Princess  Palatine  proposed, 
at  the  suggestion  of  the  Coadjutor  and  Madame 
de  Chevreuse,  that  a  formal  treaty  of  alliance 
should  be  concluded  between  Conde  and  the 
Fronde,  the  terms  to  be  specified  in  writing  and 
signed  by  accredited  representatives  of  the  con- 
tracting parties.  The  conditions  were,  the 
thorough  co-operation  of  the  Fronde,  in  vigorous 
efforts  to  wrest  the  Princes  from  the  clutches  of 
the  Government ;  the  services  of  the  party  to  be 
requited  by  Conde,  in  the  event  of  success,  by 
the  marriage  of  Mademoiselle  de  Chevreuse  with 
the  Prince  of  Conti,  the  obtaining  of  a  red  hat  for 
De  Retz,  and  the  gift  of  one  hundred  thousand 
crowns  to  Beaufort^s  rapacious  mistress,  Madame 
de  Montbazon. 

Circumstances    favoured    Anne   of    Gonzaga's 
proposal.     The  affecting  death  of  the  Dowager 


109 


Princess  of  Conde  and  the  triumphant  return  of 
Mazarin  from  his  ca^npaign  against  Turenne  oc- 
curring almost  at  the  same  moment,  supplied  the 
strongest  incentives  of  grief,  fear,  and  hatred  to 
second  her  arguments.      But  La  Eochefoucault, 
who  was  commissioned  by  Madame  de  Longueville 
to  represent  her  family  in  the  negotiations,  hesi- 
tated to  accept  the  treaty.     He  detested  De  Retz, 
and  considered  it  more  for  the  advantage  of  the 
prisoners  to  come  to  an  arrangement  with  Mazarin, 
who  could,  by  a  word,  restore  them  to  freedom. 
During  the  conferences  at  Bourg,  after  the  war  of 
Bordeaux,  the  marriage  of  Conti  with  the  Countess 
Martinozzi  had  been  hinted  at  as  a  means  of  ter- 
minating the  feud  between  Conde  and  the  Minister. 
There  is   no  doubt  that  Mazarin  was  ready  to 
sacrifice  much  for  the  honour  of  an  alliance  with 
the  House  of  Bourbon.     But  the  project  had  been 
indignantly  scouted  by  Conde  when  suggested  to 
him  through  the  physician   Dalence.    The  Prince 
declared  he  would  rather  remain  a  prisoner  all  his  life 
than  purchase  freedom  on  such  degrading  terms. 
Still  the  amicable  professions  of  the  Cardinal  had 
left  La  Eochefoucault  ground  for  hope  that  a  recon- 
ciliation was  not  impossible ;  and,  before  giving  an 
answer  to  the  Princess  Palatine,  he  paid  several 
midnight  visits  to  the  Palais  Royal  to  urge  the 


110 


Minister  to   consent  to  an  immediate  accommo- 
dation.    He  even  disclosed  to  the  Cardinal,  so  far 
as  lie  could  do  so  without  betraying  the  secret  of 
the  new  coaHtion,  the  formidable  perils  that  must 
attend  further  hesitation.      But  Mazarin,  though 
proof  against  the  arts  of  deceit,  was  the  easy  dupe 
of  plain  dealing.     A  suspicion  that  an  antagonist 
might  be  honest  never  seems  to  have  crossed  his 
mind.     He   considered   the   gulf    which  mutual 
injuries  had  dug  between   Conde  and  the  leaders 
of  the   Fronde  to  be  eternal,  and  he  could  not 
believe   in  the  reality  of  danger  so  frankly  an- 
nounced.     To  the  prophetic  warning  with  which 
La   Kochefoucault    reluctantly   closed   their  last 
interview  he  answered  with  incredulous  badinage ; 
and  the  Duke,  proceeding  straight  to  the  Hotel 
of  the  Princess  Palatine,  accepted  the  conditions 
of    the    Fronde   on   behalf    of    the    imprisoned 

Princes. 

In  order  to  give  the  highest  prestige  and  the 
stamp  of  legitimate  authority  to  the  Coahtion,  it 
only  remained  to  obtain  the  formal  adhesion  of 
the  Lieutenant-General  of  the  Kingdom.  This, 
however,  was  no  easy  matter.  Orleans,  though  loud 
in  his  denunciation  of  the  means  by  which  his  con- 
sent to  the  removal  of  his  cousins  to  Havre  had 
been  extorted,  and  liberal   of  promises,  shrank 


111 


from  the  act  of  signing  the  treaty  with  ludicrous 
terror.      His  secretary,  Caumartin,  a  creature  of 
De  Retz,   followed  him  about  for  several   days 
with  the  document  in  one  pocl:et,  an  ink-stand  in 
another,   and   a  pen   behind   his   ear.      Gaston, 
with    that    fine    sense    of    danger    with    which 
the  weaker  animals   are   gifted,   either  avoided 
being  alone,  or,  by  irregular,  movements,  rapid 
divings  through  intricate  passages,  forced  marches 
along  remote  lobbies,  and  skilful  stratagems  that 
baffled  all  probable  calculations  as  to  time  and 
place,   eluded  the   pursuit.      Such   an   elaborate 
system  of  strategy  as  he  practised  to  confound 
and  vanquish  his  secretary,  if  applied  to  war  or 
politics,   would  have  established  his  fame   as   a 
warrior  or  a  statesman.     At  last  the  wily  Cau- 
martin suddenly  disappeared  from  the  scene  of 
operations,  leaving  his  master  to  enjoy  his  hard- 
won  repose.     Over  security,  which  has  so  often 
lost  the  fruits  of  the  most  profound  combinations 
and   the    most  signal    success,   proved  fatal   to 
Gaston.     As  he  was  proceeding  incautiously,  in 
the  excusable    exultation   of   victory,  from   one 
room  to   another,   he  fell   into    an    ambuscade. 
Caumartin  lay  in  wait  for  him  between  the  double 
doors,  and>  springing  forward,  placed  the  pen  be- 
tween his  fingers  and  offered  his  own  back  as  a 


112 


113 


writing-desk.  The  Duke  accepted  his  fate  with- 
out further  resistance,  and,  after  the  manner  of  an 
ancient  Roman  falling  on  his  sword,  signed  the 
treaty  with  averted  eyes. 

The  first  move  of  the  confederates  proclaimed 
the  existence  of  the  new  alliance.     On  the  day 
appointed  for  the  consideration  of  the  Princess  of 
Conde's  petition  in  the  Palace  of  Justice,  the  Old 
and  the  New  Fronde  gave  it  their  united  support. 
Orleans  deserted  the  Court,  and  a   decree  was 
passed  by  an  immense  majority  that  a  deputation 
of  the  Magistrates,  headed  by  their  First  Presi- 
dent, should  proceed  to  the  Palais  Royal,  and 
pray  the  Regent  to  set  the  Princes  at  liberty. 
The  news  of  the  proceedings  in  the  High  Court 
fell  like  a  thunder  clap  on  the  ears  of  Mazarin, 
awaking  him  from  his  dream  of  security  to  shudder 
at  the  abyss  which  had  suddenly  opened  beneath 
his  feet.     For  the  first  time  since  the  commence- 
ment of  the  Regency,  he  found  arrayed  against 
him  the  Princes  of  the  Blood,  the  great  nobles, 
the  Parhament  of  Paris,  and  the  leading  dema- 
gogues ;  and  that  too  in  a  cause  which  was  just, 
popular,   and    fortified  by  the   sanction   of   the 
Lieutenant-General  of  the  kingdom.      Hitherto 
he  had  with  difficulty  found  safety  in  the  dissen- 
Bions  of  his  enemies.     Now,  quailing  before  the 


hatred  of  all  classes,  and  only  able  to  rely  for  sup- 
port on  the  uncertain  authority  of  a  Queen  Regent 
— like  himself  a  foreigner — he  had  to  confront  a 
league  which  might  have  appalled  the  bold  genius 
of  Richelieu,  though  armed  with  all  the  power 
and  prestige  of  an  absolute  King.  There  was  one 
move  which  might  have  checkmated  his  foes, 
and  it  was  expected  by  De  Retz  with  the  keenest 
anxiety.  This  was  for  the  Regent  to  quit  Paris 
at  once  with  the  young  King.  The  armies 
were  commanded  by  able  generals  devoted  to 
Mazarin.  The  provinces  were  governed  by  his 
adherents.  The  strength  of  the  coalition  lay  in 
the  Capital.  Safe  beyond  its  walls  with  Anne  of 
Austria  and  her  son,  and  having  Conde  in  his 
hands,  he  might  set  at  defiance  the  decrees  of  the 
Parliament  and  the  anger  of  Monsieur.  In  less 
than  a  year  Louis  would  attain  his  fourteenth 
year,  when,  by  the  laws  of  France,  he  entered  upon 
the  full  exercise  of  the  Royal  authority.  As  the 
young  King  was  passionately  attached  to  his 
mother,  this  event,  while  terminating  the  Regency, 
must  bring  to  her,  and,  as  a  consequence,  to  the 
Minister,  a  vast  increase  of  power ;  would  render 
armed  opposition,  which  during  a  minority  was 
regarded  as  legitimate,  or  at  the  worst  venial,  a 
political  crime  of  the  deepest  dye.     But  Anne  of 


1 


114 


115 


I 


Austria  could  not  be  induced  to  leave  the  Palais 
Royal.  Her  physical  energies  were  still  depressed 
from  recent  illness.  Holding  Orleans  in  supreme 
contempt,  and  feeling  assured  of  her  ability  to 
make  him  again  her  pliant  instrument,  she  under- 
rated the  gravity  of  the  crisis,  and  preferred  to 
brave  its  perils  rather  than  endure  the  discomfort 
of  exile  from  the  Capital. 

In  these  circumstances  Mazarines  position  de- 
manded the  exercise  of  consummate  prudence,  and 
of  all  the  wary  and  patient  craft  of  which  he  was 
a  master.  In  his  intense  vexation  of  mind,  he 
precipitated  his  downfal  by  a  blunder  which 
would  have  disgraced  a  poHtical  novice.  The 
Revolution  which  had  hurled  Charles  I.  of  England 
from  his  throne,  and  consigned  him  to  a  scaffold, 
was  then  in  the  full  flood  of  its  sanguinary 
triumph.  One  night  while  Orleans  was  supping 
with  the  Regent  at  the  Palais  Royal,  the  recent 
proceedings  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris  coming 
under  discussion,  the  Cardinal,  in  an  explosion  of 
rage,  compared  the  designs  of  the  leaders  of  the 
Fronde  to  those  of  Fairfax  and  Cromwell.  The 
language  of  Anne  of  Austria  was  equally  violent. 
Gaston,  dumbf  oundered  by  amazement  and  terror, 
escaped  with  all  possible  haste  to  the  Luxem- 
bourg, and,  finding  De  Retz  there,  repeated  to  the 


Prelate  the  observations  he  had  just  heard.  On  the 
following  morning  the  Coadjutor  went  to  the 
Palace  of  Justice,  reported  to  the  assembled 
Magistrates,  on  the  authority  of  ^  Monsieur,  what 
Mazarin  had  said,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  convey 
the  impression  that  the  invidious  comparison  was 
intended  to  apply  to  the  leading  members  of  the 
High  Court,  and  proposed  to  petition  the  King  to 
expel  the  Minister  for  ever  from  his  presence  and 
councils,  and  to  restore  the  captive  Princes  to 
liberty.  The  astute  Prelate  had  not  miscalculated 
the  extent  of  the  advantage  given  to  him  by 
Mazarines  imprudent  speech.  The  Parliament, 
eminently  loyal  as  a  body,  and  holding  in  deep 
horror  the  excesses  of  the  English  Republicans, 
quivered  with  anger,  and  voted  the  address  to  the 
Eang  by  acclamation.  Paris  welcomed  this  decree 
with  extravagant  delight.  The  streets  blazed  with 
bonfires ;  and  Orleans,  inspirited  by  the  popular 
demonstrations,  publicly  declared  that  he  would 
not  again  enter  the  Palais  Royal  until  the  Cardinal 
had  departed. 

This  sudden  poUtical  tempest  burst  upon  the 
Court  with  a  violence  as  resistless  as  it  was  un- 
foreseen. Anne  of  Austria  vainly  strove  to  allay 
it  by  a  message  to  the  Palace  of  Justice,  charging 
the  Coadjutor  with  dehberate  falsehood,  and  pro- 


116 


mising  to  release  the  Princes  when  Madame  d© 
Longueyille  and  Turenne  made  their  submission. 
The  tumult  swelled  fiercer  and  higher ;  and  the 
Parliament  followed  up  its  first  blow  by  a  decree 
of  perpetual  banishment  against  Mazarin  and  his 
family.  The  Cardinal  saw  that  in  Paris  all  was 
lost.  The  chances  of  the  game,  however,  were  by 
no  means  desperate.  The  revolt  of  the  Capital 
did  not  at  that  time  mean  the  fall  of  a  dynasty,  or 
even  of  a  Minister.  Paris  was  only  the  largest 
and  most  important  of  many  flourishing  cities  en- 
joying municipal  freedom,  each  of  them  the  chief 
town  of  a  province  which  still  preserved  a  large 
measure  of  self-government.  That  decisive  and 
malign  influence,  so  often  exemplified  in  our  own 
times,  which  its  restless  turbulence  exercises  on 
the  fate  of  the  kingdom,  is  the  result  of  an  all- 
embracing  and  slowly-perfected  system  of  admin- 
istrative centralization,  which  was  the  growth  of 
a  later  and  more  despotic  period.  In  order  to 
relieve  the  Regent  from  the  odium  and  peril  that 
must  attend  his  presence  at  the  Palais  Eoyal,  in 
defiance  of  the  votes  of  the  Parliament,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  secure  for  himself  full  liberty  of  action, 
Mazarin  took  formal,  and,  as  he  professed,  final 
leave  of  the  Court,  and  quitted  the  city  at  night, 
disguised  as  an  officer  of  cavalry.     But  before  his 


117 


departure,  he  concerted  with  his  mistress  a  plan 
of  operations  against  their  common  enemies,  and 
received  from  her  a  written  order  to  De  Bar, 
which  placed  the  imprisoned  Princes  unre- 
servedly at  his  disposal.  It  was  arranged  that 
Anne  of  Austria,  in  order  to  gain  time,  should 
feign  acquiescence  in  the  exile  of  her  Minister,  and 
concede  Conde's  release,  upon  the  condition  that 
the  insurgents  at  Stenay  laid  down  their  arms. 
She  was  next  to  endeavour,  secretly,  to  break  up 
the  confederacy  by  detaching  from  it  the  fickle 
Lieutenant- General.  Should  her  attempts  upon 
Orleans  fail,  she  pledged  herself  to  the  Cardinal, 
at  all  risks,  to  carry  off  the  young  King  from 
Paris,  and  renew  the  civil  war. 

In  pursuance  of  this  policy,  Anne  graciously  re- 
ceived a  deputation  of  the  High  Court,  publicly 
spoke  of  Mazarines  rule  as  a  thing  of  the  past, 
allowed  messengers  to  be  sent  to  summon 
Madame  de  Longueville  and  Turenne  to  sur- 
render Stenay,  and  entreated  Orleans  to  resume 
his  attendance  at  the  Council  of  State.  The 
Duke,  however,  rendered  prudent  by  experience 
and  the  advice  of  De  Retz,  declined  to  venture  his 
person  again  at  the  Palais  Royal  until  Cond^  had 
arrived.  The  Regent  employed,  without  avail,  the 
interposition  of  the  Parliament  to  bring  about  an 


118 


interview;  and,  when  accepting  Ms  excuse  of 
illness  as  genuine,  she  offered  to  call  on  him  at 
the  Luxembourg.  Gaston,  half  beside  himself 
with  rage  and  terror,  sent  her  word  that  when 
she  entered  his  palace  at  one  door  he  would  leave 
it  by  another.  Then,  loyal  to  her  compact  with 
her  favourite,  who  quietly  watched  the  course  of 
events  from  St.  Germain,  she  made  preparations 
for  a  second  nocturnal  flight  from  the  capital. 
But  the  chiefs  of  the  opposition  were  on  the  alert. 
The  suspicious  sojourn  of  Mazarin  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Paris  quickened  their  vigilance. 
The  Koyal  Household  and  the  Council  swarmed 
with  the  Minister's  secret  foes.  Even  the  most 
faithful  servants  of  the  Queen,  chafed  by  his 
meddling  supervision,  and  attributing  all  her  in- 
quietudes to  his  pernicious  counsels,  rejoiced  at 

his  downfal. 

Late  one  night,  after  she  had  retired  to  rest, 
Madame  de  Chevreuse  received  an  intimation 
from  Chateauneuf,  who  was  still  Keeper  of  the 
Seals,  of  Anne  of  Austria's  iutention  to  escape 
from  the  Palace  at  two  o'clock  on  the  following 
morning.  The  Duchess,  prompt  and  bold  as  in 
the  days  of  her  adventurous  youth,  immediately 
despatched  her  daughter  in  a  hackney  coach  to 
Notre  Dame  to  call  up  the  Coadjutor,  and  herself 


119 


hurried  half -dressed  to  the  Luxembourg  to  incite 
Monsieur  to  arrest  the  Regent's  flight.  De  Retz 
fully  recognised  the  danger  of  the  position,  of 
which  he  had  been  apprehensive  for  some  days. 
While  Beaufort  watched  the  Palace  with  a  body  of 
horsemen,  he  made  his  way,  in  hot  haste,  to  rouse 
the  Lieutenant  General  to  action.  On  reaching 
Gaston's  bedroom  a  strange  scene  met  his  eyes. 
The  Duchess  of  Orleans,  sitting  up  in  the  bed, 
and  Madame  de  Chevreuse  leaning  over  it,  in 
equally  scanty  costume,  from  the  other  side,  were 
pouring  forth  appeals,  reproaches,  and  sarcasms 
on  the  terror-stricken  Duke,  who  had  entrenched 
himself  deep  beneath  the  bed  clothes,  and  was 
not  to  be  dislodged.  It  was  in  vain  that  De  Retz, 
suppressing  by  heroic  efforts  the  laughter  that 
convulsed  him,  exhausted  argument  and  expostu- 
lation. In  vain  the  Duchess  of  Orleans,  a  stout 
Lorraine  Princess  of  phlegmatic  temperament, 
added  her  entreaties  with  an  ardour  which  was 
ever  afterwards  a  subject  of  amazement  to  her 
friends.  In  vain  Madame  de  Chevreuse  flung 
herself  in  passionate  abandon  on  the  coverlet,  and 
enforced  persuasion  by  a  Hberal  display  of  her 
charms.  Gaston,  petrified  by  fear,  was  insensible 
to  reason  or  prayer,  or  the  allurements  of  dishe- 
velled beauty.     At  every  fresh  assault  he  buried 


If 


120 


Idmself  still  deeper  beneath  the  bed-coverings, 
and  uttered  feeble  groans.  Meanwhile  the 
precious  moments  were  passing  away.  The  co- 
alition was  paralysed  by  the  pusillanimity  of  its 
chief. 

De  Eetz,  however,  was  not  the  man  to  shrink 
from     responsibility     in     such    an     emergency. 
Assured  of  the  support  of  a  powerful  confederacy, 
and  of  the  ultimate  approval   of  Orleans,  he  re- 
solved to  act  boldly.     His  rupture  with  Mazarin 
had  brought  back  to  him  all   his  old  popularity, 
and,  by  means  of  his  agents,  he  had  long  since 
organised  the  canaille  of  the  metropoHs,  congre- 
gated  in   the  purlieus   of  Notre   Dame,  into    a 
formidable  revolutionary  force    obedient  to   his 
will.     Eetuming  to  the  Archiepiscopal  Palace,  he 
issued  orders  for  a  general  rising  to  prevent  the 
King  being  carried  off  to  St.  Germain.     From  the 
belfry   of  the  venerable   Cathedral  the  tocsin  of 
revolt  crashed  forth  upon  the  midnight  air,  and 
soon  the  iron  tongues  of  a  himdred  towers  and 
steeples,  answering  in  wild  clangour,  called  Paris 
to  arms.     Adherents  of  the  imprisoned  Princes, 
partizans  of  the  Fronde,  grave  magistrates,  sub- 
stantial citizens,  hastened  to  obey  the  summons. 
And,  disentombed  from  their  pestilential  haunts, 
disgorged  by  dens  of  vice,  into  which  a  sunbeam 


121 


had  never  penetrated,  loathsome  wretches,  steeped 
in  crime,  whom  society  had  long  since  placed 
under  her  ban  and  sent  to  fester  in  obscure 
infamy,  stole  forth  to  prey  on  the  public  calamity, 
like  ghouls  flocking  to  a  feast  of  death.  The 
numerous  streams  of  insurrection  converged  in  a 
tumultuous  sea  around  the  Palais  Royal.  The 
shadows  of  night  only  partially  concealed  the 
motley  character  of  the  assembled  host.  There 
were  nobles  there  whose  ancestors  had  been  re- 
nowned in  the  crusades.  There  were  ecclesiastics 
of  rank,  whose  cassocks  peeped  out  from  beneath 
the  folds  of  large  military  cloaks.  There  were 
sober  burghers,  wealthy  and  peace-loving,  who 
had  donned  helmet  and  cuirass  in  the  cause  of  the 
Parliament.  And,  far  outnumbering  all  the  others, 
there  were  the  pariahs  of  civilization,  armed  with 
broken  halberds  which  had  shivered  at  Agincourt 
on  the  ranks  of  English  men-at-arms,  or  with 
rusty  pikes  which  had  flashed  at  Ivry.  The 
Royal  Guards  having  received  orders  to  offer  no 
resistance,  the  multitude  forced  their  way  into  the 
court-yard  of  the  Palace,  and  loudly  demanded  to 
see  the  King.  Their  clamours  soon  filled  every 
window  with  trembling,  half-naked  courtiers, 
ignorant  of  the  cause  of  the  commotion,  whose 
terrified  fancies   saw  hell  let  loose  beneath  them. 


VOL.   II. 


G 


122 

as  the  fitful  light  of  brandished  torches  threw 
a  dusky  glare  upon  the  upturned  mass  of  revolt- 
ing faces,  on  which  every  vice  had  set  its  stamp. 
In  this  moment  of  awful  peril,  Anne  of  Austria 
displayed  all  the  courage  of  her  race.    Her  spirit 
the  imperial  spirit  of  the  Caesars,   did  not    quail 
for  a  moment.     Commanding   the   doors  to   be 
flung  open,  she  advanced  to  meet  the  insurgents, 
inquired  their  wishes,  laughed  at  their  apprehen- 
Bions,  and  herself  conducted  the  foremost  of  them, 
among  whom   some  of  the  chiefs,  and  even  De 
Ketz  himself,  were  reported  to   have  mingled  m 
disguise,   into    the   bed  chamber   of  the    young 
King.     Louis   was  lying  on  his  little  couch,  ap- 
parently buried  in  the   soft  sleep   of  chHdhood, 
undisturbed  by  the  terrors  and  tumult  of  the  night. 
The  rude  rabble,  awed  into  sHent  reverence,  gazed 
breathlessly  for  a  moment  on  the   beautiful  boy, 
and  crept  away  murmuring  benedictions.     Little 
did    they  imagine    what  suppressed   passion   of 
resentment  and  wounded  pride  was  at  that  moment 
tearing  the  heart  of  their  young  monarch;  or  that 
the  outrages,  of  which  he   seemed  unconscious, 
would  live  in  his   mind  in   burning    memories, 
moulding  his  character  and   policy  to  the  la^t 
hour  of  his  reign.     At  dawn  the  mob  dispersed ; 
but  the  triumph  of  the  Coalition  was  complete. 


123 

Orleans,   on   awaking   later  in  the  morning,  and! 
finding    all    danger    over,    assumed    the    entire 
responsibility    of  the  successful  movement.     He 
ordered  the  burgher  militia  to  replace  the    Royal 
Guards  at  the  city  gates,  and  took  upon  himself 
all    the    functions    of     Government.     Anne    of 
Austria,    now   virtually  a  prisoner  in  the  Palais 
Eoyal,  found  herself  compelled  to  sign  the  decree 
of   outlawry  against   her  Minister,  and  another 
decree  for  the  immediate  hberation  of  Conde  and 
his   brothers.      La  Rochefoucault,  the  President 
Viole,   and  the   Under   Secretary    of  State,    La 
Vrilliere,  were  at  once  despatched   with  the  order 
of  release  to  the  Governor  of  Havre. 

Mazarin  was   still   at  St.    Germain   when   in- 
telligence reached  him  of  the  Regent's  captivity, 
and  of  the  sanction  wrung  from  her  to  the  hostile 
decrees  of    the  ParHament.       Without  losing  a 
moment   he  started  off  with  a  strong  escort  to 
Havre,  designing  to  seize  the  place  and  the  per- 
sons of  the  Princes.      He  found,   on  his  arrival, 
tliat  the  news  of  his  reverses  had  outstripped  him. 
De  Bar  replied  to  his  summons  for  admission  that 
he  was  ready  to  obey  the  Regent's  order  as  to  the 
disposal  of  the  prisoners,  but  that,  having  sworn  by 
her  Majesty's  permission  to  hold  the  fortress  for  the 
Duke  of  Richelieu,  he  could  not  open  its  gates  to 

G  2 


I 


124 

the  Cardinal's   train.      Mazarin  then  meditated 
upon  carrying  away  the  Princes  to  some  other 
place  of  security.      He  abandoned  this  project, 
however,  on  learning  that  the  neighbouring  gentry 
were  rising  in  arms  to  oppose  it.     His  only  re- 
maining resource  was  to  play  the  courtier,  to  en- 
deavour to  win  by  address  what  he  was  unable  to 
extort.     Leaving  his  attendants  without  the  walls, 
he  suddenly  presented  himself  before  Conde,  an- 
nounced to  the  Prince  that  he  was  free,  and  sought 
by  argument,  flattery,  and  falsehood  to  cozen  him 
into   an   alliance.     Conde's   prison   had  been   as 
impervious  to  intelligence  from  the  outer  world  as 
the  grave  itself.    In  the  first  transports  of  his  joy, 
he  welcomed  his  suppliant  enemy  cordially,  and 
asked  him  to  dinner.     But,  in  a  little  time,  the 
couriers  sent  forward  by  La  Rochef oucault  putting 
the  Prince  in  possession  of  the  real  condition  of 
affairs,  the  civility  with  which  he  had  listened  to  the 
Cardinal's  overtures  changed  to  sarcastic  poHte- 
ness.      The  baffled  Minister  still  lingered  in  the 
chateau,  clinging  to  the  fading  shadow  of  hope 
with  all  the  tenacity  of  despair,  and  drinking  to 
its  very  dregs  the  bitter  cup  of  humiliation.     All 
his  fine-spun  schemes,  all  the  intricate  meshes  of 
his   policy,  constructed  by  the  craft  and  toil  of 
years,  had  been  swept  away  by  the  breath  of 


125 


popular  passion,  as  if  they  had  been  gossamer 
woof.  The  edifice  of  his  power,  as  it  towered 
defiantly  in  its  strength  and  splendour,  had 
suddenly  crumbled  into  dust.  And  his  heart  was 
a  prey  to  the  torments  of  abased  ambition,  and  to 
the  gnawing  of  ingratitude — the  most  pitiless 
fury  that  haunts  fallen  greatness.  He  saw  his 
dependents,  creatures  of  his  favour  and  flatterers 
of  his  prosperity,  transformed  by  the  touch  of 
adversity  into  pitiless  critics,  who  reproached  him 
with  freezing  looks,  and  words  of  bitter  scorn. 
He  had  not  the  grandeur  of  soul  that  bears  calmly 
the  cruel  strokes  of  fortune.  His  supple  but 
weak  spirit  grovelled  in  the  dust  under  the  pres- 
sure of  such  unforeseen  calamity.  Seeking  an- 
other interview  with  Conde,  he  sounded  the  depths 
of  meanness  in  abject  entreaties  for  his  victim's 
protection.  The  Prince,  moved  to  contempt,  not 
compassion,  by  such  unworthy  supplications, 
coldly  bade  his  humbled  foe  adieu,  and  set  out 
with  Conti  and  Longueville  for  Paris.  Mazarin 
fixed  his  gaze  upon  their  receding  forms  until  they 
vanished  into  space,  with  the  sense  of  hopeless 
agony  with  which  the  shipwrecked  wretch  sees 
the  plank,  that  is  his  last  refuge  from  destruc- 
tion, eluding  his  grasp,  and  then  turned  his  steps 
towards  exHe.     But,  in  the  moment  of  his  pro- 


126 


127 


found  despair,  a  ray  of  consolation  broke  through 
the  cloud  of  his  sorrows.  La  Vrilliere  arrived, 
bearing  him  letters  from  Anne  of  Austria^,  which 
assured  him  of  her  eternal  devotion,  of  her  inten- 
tion of  conforming  herself  absolutely,  in  all  things, 
to  his  counsels,  and  of  her  fierce  purpose  to  open 
the  way  for  his  return  to  power  by  the  destruction 
of  all  his  enemies.  Revived  by  the  new  spring  of 
hope  which  the  words  of  his  attached  mistress 
called  forth  in  his  breast,  the  Cardinal  pursued  his 
way,  in  a  happier  mood,  to  the  Castle  of  Bruhl, 
near  Bonn,  which  the  Elector  of  Cologne  had 
offered  him  as  a  resting  place. 

Conde  was  now  delivered  from  the  greatest 
affliction  that  can  befal  impatient  genius,  the 
compulsory  inaction  of  captivity.  His  eagle  spirit 
was  again  free  to  soar  into  its  native  atmosphere 
of  glory.  The  rapture  of  recovered  liberty,  so 
exquisite  in  itself,  was  rendered  intoxicating  to 
his  fiery  temperament  by  the  triumph  that  awaited 
him  at  Paris.  All  that  were  illustrious  and 
powerful  among  his  countrymen,  the  most  dis- 
tinguished and  opposite  politicians,  the  most 
revered  magistrates,  the  most  renowned  warriors, 
the  most  celebrated  women,  the  Fronde,  the  Par- 
liament, the  great  nobihty,  had  combined  to  wrest 
him  from  the  clutches  of  the  Regent,  and  now 


crowded  forth  with  emulous  enthusiasm  to  swell 
the  pomp  of  his  triumphal  return.  The  Lieutenant- 
General  met  his  cousin  at  some  distance  from  the 
city  gates,  and,  entering  his  coach,  led  the  magnifi- 
cent procession.  The  citizens  who,  thirteen  months 
before,  had  lit  bonfires  to  celebrate  the  Prince's 
arrest,   now   celebrated  his  release   with   almost 
delirious  joy.     Fireworks,  public  banquets,  and 
universal  revelry  proclaimed  their  delight.     The 
power  of  his  enemies  l^y  crushed  beneath  the 
movement  which  had  shattered  the  bars  of  his 
dungeon.     Mazarin  was  an  impoverished  outcast, 
of    whom    no    man   any  longer    took    account. 
The    Regent,   deserted   and   unregarded    except 
by  the  patriotic  Mol^,  who  mourned  the  victory 
of    mob-violence,    even  in    a   righteous    cause, 
nursed  her  sullen   anger  in  the   solitude  of  the 
Palais   Royal  j    while  the  saloons  of  the  Luxem- 
bourg and  the  Hotel  de  Conde  were  thronged 
with   exulting    guests.      In   the    spring-tide  of 
his   popularity,  the   Prince   was  urged  by   &ome 
of    his   ablest   adherents   to    shut    up   Anne   of 
Austria  in  a  convent,  and  to  transfer  her  authority 
to  the  Duke  of  Orleans   or   himself.     And  this 
advice  was  judicious.     There  are   crises  in  the 
lives   of   public   men   which    shape    their  whole 
future,  and    in    which   audacity  is    the  highest 


128 

wisdom.      He  had  ample  experience  of  Anne  of 
Austria's  immoveable  attacliment  to  Mazarin,  and 
of  the  duplicity  with  which  she  knew  how  to  veil 
her  animosity  towards  himself.     He  was   aware 
that  the  approaching  majority  of  her  son  would 
place  her  in  an  almost  unassailable  position.     But 
his  entire   career  illustrated   how  completely  the 
rapid  perception  and  the  iron  will  that  decide  the 
fate  of  battles,  may  lose  their  keenness  and  vigour 
in  political  conflict.     Dazzled  by  the  reflection  of 
his  own  importance  in  the  pubHc  rejoicings,  and 
halting,  as   usual,   between   his  respect  for  the 
throne  and  the  promptings  of  personal  ambition, 
he  dalHed  in  serene  indecision,  until  the  opportu- 
nity of  making  himself  supreme  in  the  State  had 
passed  away  for  ever. 

Mazarin,  from  his  retreat  at  Bruhl,  ruled  the 
councils  of  the  Regent  with  undiminished  sway, 
and  strenuously  urged  her  to  bend  all  her  efforts 
to  detach  Conde  from  the  Fronde.  The  keen- 
sighted  Italian  discerned  that  this  might  be 
effected  with  time  and  patience.  At  first,  indeed, 
the  language  of  the  Confederates  breathed  enthu- 
siasm or  gratitude.  The  Prince  tacitly  acquiesced 
in  the  conditions  which  had  been  accepted  in  his 
name ;  the  bearing  of  the  Fronde  evinced  generous 
confidence.     But  the  seeds  of  disruption  that  lay 


129 


in  the  very  heart  of  the  Coalition,  soon  burst  forth 
into  a  plentiful   crop  of  discord.      The  Prince 
began  to  think  that  the  price  he  was  called  upon 
to  pay  for  naked  liberty,  shorn  of  the  great  dig- 
nities and  employments  which  the  Crown  alone 
could   give   him   back,    was    unreasonably  high. 
Bred  up  in  deep  veneration  for  the  throne,  which 
he  might,  by  a  not   improbable  course  of  events, 
be  called  to  fill,  a  despot  by  nature  and  by  military 
habit,  he  regarded  power  springing  from  popular 
tumults  with  feelings  of  disgust,  from  the  scope 
of  which  the  great  Episcopal  demagogue  could  not 
altogether    escape.      Between   De  Retz  and  La 
Rochefoucault  there  smouldered  the  bitter  hatred 
of  rival  wits,  between  Madame  de  Longueville  and 
Mademoiselle  de   Chevreuse  the  not  less  bitter 
hatred  of  rival  beauties.      With  such  sentiments 
alive  in  the  minds  of  the  leading  personages  on 
either  side,  permanent  union  was  impossible ;  even 
the  surface  of  their  daily  intercourse  could  not  long 
remain  unruffled.       Cordiality   gradually   cooled 
into  formal  courtesy,  and  courtesy  was  chilled  by 
altercation  and  distrust.     From  the  very  nature 
of  the  circumstances,   Conde's  popularity,  which 
had  so  suddenly  blazed  forth  on  his  enemies  like 
a  consuming   flame,  waned  with  equal  rapidity. 
The  assembly  of  nobles,  which  had  met  to  demand 

Q  5 


I 


130 


liis  freedom,  continued  its  sittings  after  his  return, 
and,  moved  by  the  jealousy  of  the  poHtical  powers 
a<;corded  or  confirmed  to  the  Parliament  of  Paris 
by  the  Decree  of  the  24th  of  October,  petitioned 
the  Regent  to  convoke  the  States-General.     The 
Parliament,  conscious  that  the  meeting  of  national 
representatives  would    throw    itself    into   "dim 
eclipse,^^  and  might  perhaps  annihilate  its  new 
political  functions,  resisted  the  demand  with  all 
its  might.     Both  parties,  urging  their  recent  ser- 
vices, confidently  appealed  to  the  Prince  for  sup- 
port.    Conde  endeavoured  to  evade  the  difficulty 
by  standing  neutral  between  his  conflicting  obli- 
gations, and  referring  the  rival  claims  to  the  Duke 
of  Orleans  for  decision.     He  only  succeeded  in  in- 
curring the  reproach  of  ingratitude  from  both  sides. 
It  was  not  without  reason  that  he  exclaimed  one  day, 
when  overwhelmed  with  applications  which  it  was 
not  in  his  power  to  satisfy,  but  the  failure  of  each  of 
which  carried  with  it  a  sense  of  injury,  that  the 
Duke  of  Beaufort  had  been  happy  in  owing  his 
liberty  to  his  own  servants. 

When  the  novelty  of  his  position  as  a  popular 
idol  had  worn  off,  and  over- wrought  feeling  had 
collapsed  into  reciprocal  disappointment,  Conde  be- 
gan to  listen  complacently  to  the  overtures  of  the 
Regent.     He  consented  to  receive  back  from  her 


131 

his  former  honours  and  offices.     As  a  proof  of  his 
good  will,  he  successfully  opposed  in  her  interests 
the  convoking  of  the  States-General ;  a  measure, 
ardently  desired  by  De  Retz,  as  being  likely  to 
lead    to   a  prolongation   of    the   Regency,   with 
Orleans     as     Regent,     and    himself    as    Prime 
Minister.     Anne   of  Austria  suddenly   throwing 
off  the   appearance   of    sullen    apathy  in   which 
she  had  shrouded  the  workings  of  her  mind  since 
the  triumph  of  the  Coalition,  dismissed  Chateau- 
neuf ,  the  Minister  of  the  Fronde,  transferred  the 
seals  to  Mole,  [recalled  Chavigny,  who  possessed 
Conde's  entire  confidence,  to  the  Council  of  State, 
and  publicly  defied  the  Duke  of  Orleans  when  he 
protested   against  her    independent    exercise   of 
authority.     The  leading  Frondists  held  a  council 
at  the  Luxembourg,  which  Cond^  attended,  to 
determine  how  they   should  meet  this  vigorous 
attack,  with  the  secret  of  which  they  were  as  yet 
unacquainted.       The    Coadjutor    proposed    that 
Orleans,  with    Conde's   assistance,  should  depose 
the  Regent,  and  assume  the  reins  of  Government, 
Beaufort  and  he  undertaking  to  excite  a  popular 
insurrection.  Orleans,  before  venturing  an  opinion, 
looked  nervously  at  the  Prince,  who  sarcastically 
remarked  that  he  was  but  a  coward  in  back-alley 
and  slop-pail  warfare,  but  would  cheerfully  take 


132 


horse  in  the  provinces  at  the  orders  of  Monsieur. 
Beaufort  rudely  rebuked    his    old    confederate, 
whose  word  had  hitherto  been  law  to  him,  for 
assuming    his    co-operation.       The    Lieutenant- 
General,   scared   by  the   answer   of   his   cousin, 
hastily  broke  up  the  conference.     In  the  tone  and 
language  of  the  Prince,  and  still  more  in  the  un- 
friendly self-assertion  of  Beaufort,  the  practised 
intelligence  of  the  Coadjutor  read  the  dissolution 
of  the  league.     With  his  usual  decision,  he  an- 
nounced to  Orleans  that  the  political  aims,  which 
the  members  of  the  Coalition  had  bound  them- 
selves to  accomplish,  having  been  achieved,  he  no 
longer  felt  justified  in  neglecting  the  care  of  his 
diocese ;  and  he  retreated  again  to  the  seclusion  of 
Notre  Dame. 

Anne  of  Austria  now  intimated  to  Conde  that 
he  might  name  his  own  terms,  if  he  would  re- 
pudiate his  engagements  with  the  Fronde.  With 
a  facility,  as  shameful  as  it  was  blind,  Cond^  ac- 
cepted  the  proposal.  The  Under  Secretaries  of 
State  were  instructed  to  draw  up  a  treaty  of 
alliance^  which  handed  over  half  the  kingdom  to 
the  Pri^  and  his  immediate  following ;  and  the 
Prince,  on  his  side,  undertook  to  give  a  public 
pledge  of  his  change  of  policy,  by  the  rupture  of 
his  brother's  engagement  with  Mademoiselle  de 


133 


Chevreuse.  There  was  little  difficulty  in  finding 
a  specious  pretext  for  this  breach  of  faith. 
Mademoiselle  de  Chevreuse  was  in  the  bloom  of 
youth.  Her  manners  possessed  an  exquisite  charm, 
which  rendered  the  soft  spell  of  her  voluptuous 
beauty  irresistible.  But  she  was  depraved  even 
beyond  the  depravity  of  that  dissolute  period. 
Her  amour  with  the  Coadjutor  was  a  public  scandal. 
Conti,  though  passionately  attached  to  her,  con- 
sented, on  being  furnished  with  plain  proofs  of 
her  misconduct,  to  renounce  the  alliance.  Good 
feeling,  as  well  as  policy,  would  have  clothed  the 
intimation  of  this  purpose  in  forms  and  language 
of  respectful  courtesy  calculated  to  deprive  the 
quarrel  of  unnecessary  bitterness.  The  lady's 
kindred,  the  Duchess  of  Orleans,  the  Princess 
Palatine,  the  Princes  of  Lorraine- Guise,  had 
not  only  laid  the  House  of  Conde  under  the 
deepest  obligations,  but  boasted  a  lineage  as  lofty 
as  its  own.  But  the  Prince  caused  his  will  to  be  ^ 
signified  in  a  manner  so  arrogant  and  insulting,  as 
justly  to  provoke  the  mortal  enmity  of  Madame 
de  Chevreuse,  and  her  powerful  family  connexions. 
That  spirited  lady  and  De  Eetz  meditated  revenge. 
Orleans  renounced  the  friendship  of  his  faithless 
cousin.  But  the  person  most  ungenerously  in- 
jured by  the  flagrant  ingratitude  of  Cond^  was 


134 


the  Princess  Palatine.  Confiding  in  his  honour, 
she  had  given  her  note  of  hand  for  one  hundred 
thousand  crowns  to  Madame  de  Montbazon,  and 
had  pledged  herself  to  obtain  for  De  Retz  a 
Cardinal's  hat.  Conde  repaid  the  matchless  skill 
and  devotion,  to  which  he  owed  his  liberty,  by- 
leaving  her  to  bear  the  burden  of  the  obligations 
contracted  for  his  benefit.  She  tried  to  obtain 
the  coveted  seat  in  the  conclave  for  the  Coadjutor, 
through  the  intervention  of  her  sister,  the  Queen 
of  Poland  ;  but  loyal  feeling  forbade  the  Queen  to 
act  in  the  matter  without  the  consent  of  Anne  of 
Austria,  her  early  benefactress.  Cut  to  the  heart 
by  the  baseness  of  her  hero,  and  by  her  inability 
to  perform  promises  made  in  the  fervour  of  dis- 
interested enthusiasm,  Anne  of  Gonzaga  sought 
a  reconciliation  with  the  Regent,  and  offered  her 
friendship  to  Mazarin.  The  placable  Cardinal, 
appreciating  her  worth,  responded  with  cordiality 
to  her  overtures,  and  warmly  recommended  her  to 
the  favour  of  his  mistress. 

Anne  of  Austria  had  now  dissolved  the  victorious 
host  of  her  enemies  ;  the  great  confederacy  which 
had  jeopardised  her  authority,  and  even  her  liberty, 
was  rent  into  hostile  factions.  But  her  troubles 
were  by  no  means  at  an  end.  Conde  imperiously 
pressed  for  the  fulfilment  of  their  contract :  and,  on 


135 


the  first  signs  of  evasion  on  her  part,  his  language 
grew  more  peremptory  and  menacing.  It  had 
never  entered  into  her  mind  to  make  concessions 
so  fatal  to  the  Crown.  She  had  merely  thrown 
them  out  as  a  decoy  to  lure  the  Prince  to  his 
destruction ;  and  he,  in  his  arrogant  selfishness, 
had  greedily  swallowed  the  glittering  bait.  But 
she  now  found  herself  isolated,  and,  without  re- 
source, exposed  to  his  fury.  In  this  new  warfare, 
circumstances  for  a  time  gave  him  peculiar  ad- 
vantages. The  constant  passing  of  couriers  be- 
tween Bruhl  and  the  Palais  Royal  irritated  and 
alarmed  the  Parliament  and  citizens  of  Paris.  In 
the  High  Court  Conde  thundered  against  the  pre- 
dominant influence  of  the  proscribed  Minister, 
and  won  golden  opinions  by  his  affected  zeal 
for  the  pubHc  good.  At  the  Palais  Royal  she 
used  the  popular  favour  to  oppress  the  Regent 
and  despoil  the  Crown.  In  the  midst  of  his 
philippics  against  Mazarin,  he  privately  offered 
Anne  of  Austria  to  consent  to  her  favourite's 
return  if  his  demands  were  granted.  But  the 
Cardinal,  to  his  honour,  refused  to  accept  re- 
storation on  such  terms.  It  would  only  remain 
he  said,  to  carry  the  Prince  to  Rheims  and  crown 
him  King.  With  great  public  spirit,  he  counselled 
his  mistress,  rather  than  barter  away  the  rights  of 


136 


her  son,  to  purcliase  the  services  of  his  arch-enemy, 
De  Retz,  even  if  it  were  necessary  to  instal  that 
aspiring  Prelate  in  his  own  vacant  apartments  at 
the  Palais  Royal,  invested  with  the  dignities  of 
Cardinal  and  Prime  Minister. 

The  Regent  took  counsel  with  the  Princess 
Palatine,  and  then  sending  for  Madame  de  Chev- 
reuse  and  her  daughter,  appealed  to  them  to 
assist  her  in  destroying  the  object  of  their  common 
hatred.  These  ladies,  smarting  from  an  insult 
that  could  only  be  washed  out  in  blood,  fell  joy- 
fully into  the  Regent's  views,  and  answered  for  De 
Retz.  At  midnight  the  Coadjutor  was  again 
closeted  with  Anne  of  Austria  in  her  little  gray 
chamber.  She  offered  him  an  immediate  nomi- 
nation to  the  conclave,  and  the  chief  place  in  the 
Ministry,  if  he  would  free  her  from  the  intolerable 
yoke  of  the  Prince.  At  the  same  time  she  em- 
ployed all  the  arts  of  feminine  persuasion  to 
engage  his  friendship  forMazarin.  The  ambitious 
heart  of  the  Coadjutor  leaped  with  joy.  The 
splendid  prize  which,  for  so  many  years,  had  in- 
spired his  efforts  and  gilded  his  dreams  was  within 
his  grasp.  But  the  evident  partiality  of  the 
Regent  for  her  fallen  favourite,  and  her  evident 
reluctance  to  elevate  his  most  formidable  rival  to 
his  vacant  seat,  taught  the  wary  prelate  caution. 


237 


He  saw  his  frank  declaration  that  the  alliance  she 
desired  was,  even  in  her  own  interests,  impossible, 
his  ability  to  serve  her  resting  on  his  antagonism, 
to  the  Cardinal,  fall  barren  upon  her  mind.     He 
therefore  decHned  for  the  present  accepting  any 
official  position ;  relying  upon  Orleans,  the  Parlia- 
ment, and  the  force  of  public  feeling  to  guard  him 
against  the  return  of  Mazarin,  and  upon  time  and 
opportunity  to  demonstrate  to  the  Regent  how  in- 
dispensable to   her  were  his  own   services.     In 
order  to  remove  the  point  which  the  vacancy  in 
the  chief  post  of  the  Administration  lent  to  Conde's 
invective,  he  proposed  that  Chateauneuf  should 
be    recalled  to  the    Council  with  the   title    of 
Prime   Minister;     and    he    pledged  himself    to 
Anne  of  Austria  to  ruin  the  Prince's  popularity, 
and    drive  him  from  the   Capital.     Transported 
with  joy   at  gaining   such   a  potent  ally,  with- 
out sacrificing  to   him  her   exiled  Minister,  she 
replied  he  might  consider  himself  Cardinal  and 
the  second  of  her  friends.      The   Coadjutor  was 
the  vainest   of  men.      Though   extremely   ugly, 
his  successes  among  the  fair  sex  were  notorious^ 
and   no    conquest   seemed    to    him    impossible. 
Anne    of    Austria    was    a    finished     coquette  ; 
and  she  now  used  her  blandishments  with  such 
effect,  that  the  intoxicated  prelate  seems  to  have 


138 


conceived  the  hope  of  supplanting  Mazarin  in  her 
heart  as  well  as  in  her  councils.  They  sepa- 
rated, after  a  conference  of  some  hours,  in  per- 
fect accord,  each  well  pleased  at  the  result  of  the 
interview. 

The  new  political  combination  remained  for 
some  time  a  profound  secret.  The  Regent  con- 
tinued to  delude  the  Prince  with  professions  of 
regard,  and  of  eager  anxiety  to  satisfy  his  pre- 
tensions. But  the  Fronde  assailed  him  vigorously 
in  the  Chambers  and  in  the  press,  and  exposed  the 
hoUowness  of  his  patriotic  declarations,  by  baring 
to  pubHc  view  the  whole  course  of  his  private 
negotiations  with  the  Regent.  Conde,  however, 
held  his  ground  firmly.  Beaufort,  still  the  idol  of 
Paris,  was  now  his  zealous  adherent;  Orleans,  over- 
awed by  his  fiery  cousin,  remained  neutral ;  M0I6 
and  the  wiser  magistrates  deprecated  further  dis- 
sensions in  the  Royal  Family,  and  the  progress  of 
the  Coadjutor  halted  far  behind  the  fierce  rush  of 
the  Regent^s  passions.  She  was  in  despair. 
Desperate  councils,  inspired  by  baffled  vengeance, 
were  deliberately  weighed  at  the  Palais  Royal. 
Vitry  had  been  created  Duke  and  Marshal  of 
France  by  Louis  XIII.,  for  assassinating  the  ob- 
noxious Concini.  The  precedent  was  not  forgotten. 
The  Prince  had,  of  late,  abstained  from  visiting 


139 


the  Court,  but  Marshal   Hocquincourt  undertook 

to  storm  his  hotel  in  the  night,  and  slay  him  if  he 

attempted  resistance.     To  her  eternal  dishonour, 

Anne  of  Austria  warmly  approved  and  encouraged 

this   murderous  project.     No  one  could  estimate 

better  than  she  what  likelihood  there  was  that  the 

warrior  Prince,  in  his  own  palace,  and  surrounded 

by  his  retainers,  would  yield  without  a  blow  to  the 

violence  of  midnight  assassins.     But    De   Retz, 

though  unscrupulous  and  without  fear,  and  steeped 

to  the  lips  in  vice,  shrank  from  the  infamy  of  such 

an  enormous  crime.     He   offered  to  have  Conde 

arrested  at  the  Luxembourg  Palace,  in  the  presence 

of    Monsieur;    and   although   Anne   of    Austria 

jealous  and  distrustful  of  the  Lieutenant  General, 

rejected  this  proposal,  his  remonstrances  forced 

her,  unwillingly,  to  abandon  the  scheme  of  assas- 

sination. 

Information  that  designs  were  harboured 
at  Court  against  his  liberty  reached  the  Prince, 
and  so  completely  had  he  been  fooled  by  the 
Regent's  artifices,  arid  his  own  egregious  presump- 
tion, that  his  astonishment  exceeded  his  anger. 
Never  had  he  deemed  himself  more  firmly  planted 
in  Anne  of  Austria's  favour,  never  had  he  counted 
with  greater  certainty  upon  the  realization  of  his 
ambitious  hopes.     He  barricaded  and  garrisoned 


140 

his  hotel,  and,  shortly  afterwards,  fresh  rumours  of 
the  hostile  intentions  of  his  enemies  catching 
some  colour  of  truth  from  the  suspicious  move- 
ments of  a  body  of  the  Royal  Guards,  he  quitted 
Paris  at  break  of  day  for  his  country  house  at  St. 
Maur.  As  he  lingered  outside  one  of  the  city 
gates,  with  an  armed  party  of  his  friends,  in  ex- 
pectation of  being  joined  by  his  brother  Conti, 
the  sharp  ring  of  hoofs  upon  the  stony  causeway 
struck  his  ear.  Thinking  himself  pursued,  he  set 
spurs  to  his  horse,  and  never  drew  rein  till  he  had 
reached  Meudon.  Laughter-loving  Paris  soon 
learned  with  delight  how  a  few  donkeys,  driven  by 
peasant  women  to  early  market,  had  scared  into 
headlong  flight  the  boldest  warrior  of  the  age. 

Conde  was  joined  at  St.  Maur  by  all  his  family, 
and  by  a  great  majority  of  the  nobility  then  in 
the  Capital.  Emboldened  by  this  powerful 
demonstration,  he  sent  a  message  to  the  Parlia- 
ment, declaring  his  liberty  to  be  menaced,  and 
requiring  the  dismissal  of  the  three  Under 
Secretaries  of  State,  Le  Tellier,  Servien,  and 
Lyonne,  as  being  the  creatures  and  accomplices 
of  the  still  omnipotent  Mazarin.  Anne  of  Austria, 
divided  between  vexation  and  alarm  at  the  un- 
expected popularity  of  her  enemy,  sent  down  to 
the  Palace  of  Justice  a  solemn  denial  of  his  accusa- 


141 


tions.  The  Coadjutor  thundered  against  the  pre- 
sumption of  a  Prince  of  the  Blood  in  claiming  to 
dictate  the  choice  of  the  King's  ministers.  But 
the  High  Court,  anxious  to  soothe  the  irritation  of 
the  Prince,  issued  a  fresh  decree  against  all  who 
should  hold  communication  with  a  proclaimed 
enemy  of  the  realm.  The  Under  Secretaries 
cowering  before  the  storm,  and  deeming  the  cause 
of  their  patron  lost,  threw  up  their  seals  and 
retired  from  Court ;  and  then  Orleans,  distracted 
by  contending  terrors,  paid  a  friendly  visit  to  his 
cousin  at  St.  Maur,  and  persuaded  him  to  return 
to  Paris. 

Nevertheless,  the  breach  between  Anne  of 
Austria  and  Conde  grew  wider  every  day.  There 
is  Httle  doubt  that  at  this  time  he  was  heartily 
sick  of  faction,  and  honestly  desirous  of  a  recon- 
ciliation with  the  Eegent  upon  terms  that  would 
afford  a  sufficient  guarantee  for  the  permanent 
exclusion  of  Mazarin  from  France.  But  Anne 
was  staunch  to  her  favourite;  and  the  Prince 
yielding  to  the  evil  counsels  of  his  sister  and  her 
following,  and  to  the  delusive  suggestions  of  his 
own  inflated  egotism,  began  to  prepare  for  civil 
war.  He  sent  his  wife  and  son  to  Montrond, 
placed  officers  whom  he  could  trust  in  charge  of 
the  fortresses  of  his  governments,  and  dispatched 


142 


tli^  Marquis  of  Silleiy  to  Brussels  to  negotiate  a 
treaty  witli  the  Archduke.  These  criminal  steps 
gave  the  Regent  an  advantage  which  she  was  not 
slow  to  use.  She  sent  a  message  to  the  High 
Court,  formally  charging  the  Prince  with  high 
treason.  The  ParKament  appointed  a  day  for 
the  consideration  of  the  indictment.  De  Retz 
prepared  to  sustain  it  with  all  his  genius  and  all 
his  audacity ;  and  the  vacillating  Orleans  promised 
his  co-operation.  On  the  other  hand,  Conde 
drew  up  a  counter- declaration,  asserting  his  inno- 
cence, and  demanded  Monsieur's  signature  to  the 
document.  Gaston,  afraid  to  refuse,  yet  ashamed 
to  comply,  endeavoured  to  escape  the  difficulty  by 
flight,  and  set  out  for  the  country  in  the  early 
morning.  But  the  Prince  stopped  his  cousin's 
coach  before  it  got  clear  of  the  city,  and  presented 
the  paper  which  contained  his  answer  to  the 
Regent's  charges.  Orleans,  awed  into  instant  sub- 
mission by  the  glance  and  voice  of  his  imperious 
kinsman,  subscribed  his  name  without  a  murmur, 
and  sought  refuge  in  a  quiet  retreat  until  the 
tempest  blew  over. 

The  day  appointed  for  the  hearing  of  the  cause 
was  one  of  the  most  agitated  in  the  feverish 
annals  of  the  Fronde.  Perhaps  the  classic 
ground  by  the  shore  of  the  hoarse  ^gean,  where 


143 


the  fierce  democracy  of  Athens  exulted  in  its 
stormy  life,  or  the  equally  memorable  spot  beneath 
the  shadow  of  the  Roman  Forum,  whose  august 
temples  were  so  often  polluted  by  the  strife  of 
the  faction-torn  comitiUy  never  witnessed  a  more 
tumultuous  scene  than  that  which  on  this  day 
desecrated  the  Palace  of  Justice.  The  Regent 
and  De  Retz  were  determined  to  crush  Conde  at 
all  hazards  ;  he  was  equally  prepared,  if  necessary, 
to  resort  to  the  last  extremity  of  force.  Paris 
was  divided  into  hostile  camps.  The  outer  halls, 
the  closets,  and  the  corridors  of  the  Palace 
of  Justice  were  filled  with  armed  men  and  muni- 
tions of  war.  The  members  of  the  High  Court 
passed  to  their  chamber  through  steel-clad  ranks, 
burning  with  the  rage  of  civil  hatred ;  and  their 
deliberations  were  disturbed  by  the  stern  murmurs 
and  the  clashing  of  arms  that  resounded  from  with- 
out. A  chill  of  agonised  suspense  shot  through  the 
assembly,  freezing  the  boldest  hearts.  Brave  men 
were  seen  to  tremble  and  turn  pale,  and  drops  of 
intense  anguish  stood  upon  many  a  stem  brow, 
and  rolled  down  many  a  furrowed  cheek.  Conde 
opened  the  debate  with  fury,  denouncing  the  Coad- 
jutor as  the  author  of  the  calumnies  by  which  he 
was  assailed.  De  Retz  replied  with  equal 
vehemence,  taunting  the  Prince  with  perfidy  and 


144 

ingratitude.  The  animosity  of  their  followers 
was  kindled  into  frenzy ;  the  Prince  laid  his  hand 
on  his  sword,  and  it  seemed  for  a  moment  as  if 
nothing  could  avert  one  of  the  bloodiest  tragedies 
in  the  history  of  France.  But  the  First  President 
Mole,  whose  sublime  courage  enabled  him  alone 
to  preserve  composure  throughout  this  terrible 
scene,  threw  himself  between  the  hostile  parties. 
He  implored  Conde  by  the  blood  of  St.  Louis 
not  to  defile  with  human  sacrifices  to  the 
demon  of  civil  discord,  the  temple  which  the 
good  King  had  reared  to  peace  and  justice.  He 
adjured  the  Coadjutor  by  his  sacred  office  to 
spare  the  flock  which  Heaven  had  committed  to 
his  charge.  These  appeals,  enforced  by  the  ven- 
erable character  of  the  great  Magistrate,  and  by 
the  reproaches  of  half-stifled  reason,  recalled  the 
leaders  to  their  senses.  Conde,  whose  party  was 
the  stronger,  immediately  despatched  La  Koche- 
f oucault  to  dismiss  his  armed  train ;  and  De  Retz 
proceeded  in  person  on  a  similar  errand.  But  as 
the  messengers  of  mercy  were  returning,  having 
accomplished  their  mission,  and  the  rival  hosts 
were  quietly  dispersing.  La  Rochefoucault,  with  a 
disregard  of  good  faith  and  prudence  which  only 
the  madness  of  long  cherished  private  and  party 
animosity  could  inspire,  caught  the  Prelate  in  the 


145 

folds  of  a  door,  and  holding  his  body  as  in  a  vice, 
with  the  head  and  shoulders  within  and  the  lower 
extremities  on  the  outside,  called  to  his  friends  to 
kill  the  Archbishop.  Luckily  for  De  Retz,  one  of 
Conde^s  favourite  officers  interfered  to  rescue  him 
from  his  critical  position.  The  Parhament  ab- 
ruptly broke  up  its  sitting  without  coming  to  a 
decision  on  the  Regent^s  message. 

On  the  following  day  Paris  awoke,  as  a  man 
awakes  from  a  drunken  debauch.  Horror,  shame, 
and  remorse  urged  all  whom  faction  had  not  bereft 
of  the  feelings  of  humanity,  to  seek  an  accommo- 
dation. Mol^  was  indefatigable  in  the  work  of 
conciliation.  The  Regent,  who  wished  for  nothing 
so  much  as  that  the  Prince  and  the  Coadjutor 
should  cut  each  other^s  throats,  found  it  expedient 
to  dissemble  her  feelings.  In  a  few  days  the 
King  would  attain  his  majority,  and  hold  a  Bed  of 
Justice  to  announce  his  assumption  of  sovereign 
power.  It  was  agreed  that  on  this  solemn  occa- 
sion, the  Prince  should  be  formally  declared 
guiltless  of  high  treason,  pledging  himself  in 
return  to  renounce  faction.  But,  even  in  the  short 
period  which  had  to  elapse,  new  causes  of  irritation 
sprang  up,  which  led  to  his  absenting  himself  from 
the  ceremony.  Louis  held  his  Bed  of  Justice 
with  all  the  pomp  and  circumstance  befitting  the 

VOL.   II.  H 


146 


august  occasion  of  the  majority  of  a  King  of 
France.  But  tlie  elaborate  magnificence  of 
ceremonial^  and  the  splendour  of  martial  array- 
only  rendered  the  absence  of  his  greatest  subject 
more  conspicuous.  Anne  of  Austria,  goaded 
beyond  all  endurance  by  this  public  shght,  and  by 
the  terms  in  which  it  was  excused,  publicly  de- 
clared that  she  or  the  Prince  must  perish.  Still, 
however,  the  friends  of  peace,  and  especially  the 
Duke  of  Orleans,  were  unceasing  in  their  efforts 
to  bring  about  an  understanding.  Mazarin 
counselled  his  mistress  to  grudge  no  reasonable 
concession  which  might  serve  to  keep  the  Prince 
from  revolt.  But  Anne  of  Austria  hated  Conde 
with  an  implacable  hatred,  a  blending  of  all  the 
vindictive  emotions  of  an  outraged  sovereign  and 
an  insulted  woman ;  and  she  saw  in  him  an  in- 
superable obstacle  to  the  return  of  her  Minister 
which  her  courage  impelled  her  to  break  to  pieces. 
On  the  other  hand  Conde,  taught  by  experience 
to  distrust  the  Regent,  urged  on  by  false  pride  and 
the  violent  counsels  of  his  sister's  faction,  and 
entangled  in  engagements  with  Spain,  had  un- 
willingly drifted  towards  civil  war,  till  he  found  it 
well-nigh  impossible  to  retrace  his  course.  Retiring 
slowly  through  the  province  of  Berri  to  the  Castle 
of  Montrond,  he  held  council  there  with  Conti 


147 


Madame  de  Longueville,  Nemours,  La  Rochefou- 
cault,  the  President  Viole,  and  the  faithful  Lenet, 
whose  opinions  always  leant  to  wisdom  and 
moderation.  His  mind  long  remained  a  prey  to 
remorseful  doubts  before  it  could  resolve  on  the 
fatal  plunge  into  civil  war ;  and  when  he  yielded 
at  last  to  the  importunities  of  his  brother  and 
sister,  it  was  with  a  mournful  prophecy  which 
time  fulfilled,  that  they  would  desert  him  at  his 
need.  The  die  was  cast,  both  sides  appealed  to 
the  sword. 

In  reviewing  the  career  of  Conde  since  the 
peace  of  Munster,  when  he  cast  himself  into  the 
angry  whirlpool  of  the  Fronde,  to  be  swept  along 
finally  into  the  abyss  of  rebellion,  there  are  few 
points  indeed  on  which  the  judgment  can  rest 
with  even  qualified  approval.  Ambition  is  an  im- 
poriouB  instinct  in  the  minds  of  men  of  great 
abilities  and  great  energy.  But  ambition  may  be  that 
lofty  and  generous  sentiment,  which  is  the  natural 
life  of  genius,  kindling  all  its  glorious  faculties 
into  beneficent  activity,  impelling  it  on  its  sublime 
mission  to  illumine  and  to  make  smooth  the  dark 
and  difficult  paths  of  human  progress .  And  ambition 
may  be  a  sordid  passion  which  vivifies  genius  with  a 
baleful  fire  only  to  blast  it,  perverting  it  from 
its  God-like  destinies  into  a  minister  of  evil,  a 

H  2 


148 


deformity,  and  a  curse.  After  the  battle  of  Lens, 
the  opportunity  of  winning  such  renown  as  has 
but  rarely  fallen  to  the  lot  of  man,  opened  itself  to 
Conde.  He  was  the  hero  of  the  age,  radiant  with 
glory.  He  was  at  once  the  first  Prince  of  the 
Blood,  and  the  chief  of  a  family  which  had  linked 
its  name  with  popular  interests ;  at  once  the  idol 
of  the  French  nobility  and  the  pride  of  the  House 
of  Bourbon.  All  classes  in  France  regarded  him 
with  unbounded  admiration.  Nature  and  fortune 
had  combined,  in  lavish  emulation,  to  endow  him 
with  every  gift  and  every  advantage  calculated  to 
attract  confidence  from  all.  The  Government, 
weak  and  discredited,  clung  to  him  for  safety ; 
the  nobles,  turbulent  and  licentious,  were  prodigal 
of  their  spontaneous  homage  to  the  brilliant 
warrior;  the  Third  Estate, goaded  to  revolt  by  mis- 
rule, but  swayed  by  patriotic  statesmen,  equally 
wise,  firm,  and  loyal,  eagerly  solicited  his  pro- 
tection. Had  he  possessed  greatness  of  soul  com- 
mensurate with  the  grandeur  of  the  opportunity, 
and  bent  his  mind  to  the  noble  task  of  healing  the 
disorders  of  the  State ;  of  consolidating  yet  con- 
fining within  salutary  limits  the  power  of  the 
Crown ;  of  bridling  faction,  yet  estabhshing  se- 
curely the  just  rights  of  the  subject ;  he  might, 
in  all  human  probability,  have  saved  France  from 


149 


a  century  and  a  half  of  demoralizing  despotism, 
and  from  the  wide  waste  and  ruin  of  the  great  Re- 
volution. And  while  securing  for  himself,  on  the 
legitimate  basis  of  great  public  services,  a  com- 
manding position  in  the  kingdom,  which  neither 
Court  intrigue  nor  popular  caprice  would  have 
been  able  to  overturn,  he  might  have  built  him- 
self an  imperishable  monument  in  the  welfare  of 
his  country,  and  won  from  the  gratitude  of  man- 
kind a  chaplet  of  fame  far  brighter,  purer,  and 
more  enduring  than  the  blood-stained  laurels  he 
had  gathered  on  the  field  of  Eocroi. 

But  this  great  work,  which  patriotism  invited 
him  to  achieve,  awoke  no  responsive  enthusiasm 
in  the  Princess  mind,  debauched  by  the  favours  of 
fortune.  The  glory  of  establishing  a  constitu- 
tional monarchy  which  should  combine,  in  just 
measure,  authority  with  freedom,  was  blazoned 
before  his  eyes  by  the  eloquence  of  MoM  and  De 
Retz,  without  inflaming  his  soul.  In  the  line  of 
policy  he  pursued,  his  views,  selfish,  and  therefore 
short-sighted,  were  confined  within  the  narrow 
bounds  of  his  own  vulgar  interests.  He  regarded 
the  difficulties  of  the  Regent,  and  the  miseries  of 
the  people,  only  as  materials  with  which  the 
hand  of  faction  might  construct  a  vast  edifice  of 
personal  aggrandisement.     It  might  have  been 


150 


thought  that  when  amidst  the  tempest  of  universal 
odium,  which  his  pride  and  violence  provoked,  he 
was  hurried  a  captive  to  Vincennes,  the  sohtude 
of  his  prison  would  have  induced  reflection,  and 
that  reflection  and  adversity  would  have  revived 
in  his  breast  seeds  of  wisdom  that  had  withered 
in  the  blaze  of  cloudless  prosperity.  But  it  re- 
quired far  sterner  trials  to  temper  that  haughty 
spirit,  to  school  that  turbulent  heart.  He  left  his 
prison  to  follow  again  a  course  of  unworthy 
ambition,  along  which  his  progress  could  only  be 
tracked  by  national  calamities.  The  reckless 
audacity  with  which  he  openjy  pursued  aims 
purely  selfish,  is  a  remarkable  proof  of  the  low 
standard  of  public  morality  in  France  at  that 
period.  There  have  lived,  indeed,  in  France, 
both  before  and  after  his  time.  Princes  of  the 
Eoyal  Blood  whose  influence  overshadowed  the 
throne.  In  the  preceding  century  the  dishonoured 
royalty  of  the  despicable  Henry  III.  had  shrunk 
into  insignificance  in  the  presence  of  the  Great 
League  which  was  animated  by  the  heroic  soul  of 
Henry  of  Guise.  The  succeeding  century  saw 
the  career  and  fall  of  Phillippe  Egalite.  But 
Guise  was  strong,  not  in  the  strength  of  faction^ 
but  of  the  national  sympathies.  His  confederacy 
was  the  incarnation  of  the  spirit  which  stirred  to 


151 

its  lowest  depths  the  heart  of  Catholic  France, 
the  uprising  of  Catholicism  against  the  Keforma- 
tion.     History  has  consigned  Egalit^   to  eternal 
infamy  by  exhibiting  him  as  an  odious  type  of 
profligate  ambition.     But  such,  during  the  period 
of  his  popularity,  was  not  the  judgment  of  the 
majority   of  his   countrymen.     To  the  few   who 
knew  him  well,  indeed,  he  was  a  jaded  voluptuary, 
who,  having   exhausted  every    other   species  of 
flagitious  excitement,  was  driven  by  the  cravings 
of  a  morbid  appetite  to   seek  new  pleasures  in 
revolution  and  regicide.     But  to  the  mass  of  the 
population  he  appeared,  for  a  time,  an  illustrious 
and  disinterested  champion  of  liberty,  a  man  of 
royal  rank    and  royal    nature,    who,    discarding 
in  the  sacred   cause  of  humanity  the  prejudices 
of  birth  and    the    ties    of    blood,    had    volun- 
tarily     descended      to     the     condition      of     a 
private  citizen,  in  order  better  to  co-operate  in 
a  movement  that  crushed  colossal  injustice,  and 
emancipated  millions  from  hereditary  degradation. 
The  ambition  of  Conde  was  neither  lofty,  like  that 
of  Guise,  nor  crafty  like  that  of  Egalite.      It  was 
not  the  sublime  sentiment  which  draws  its  inspira- 
tion from  a  grand  idea    and  is  sanctified   by  a 
noble  purpose.     Neither  did  it  seek,  with  care,  to 
hide  its  deformity  under  the  borrowed  garb  of 


i 


152 

public  virtue.  It  was  of  the  earth  earthy,  and  its 
native  meanness  was  only  rendered  more  repulsive 
by  a  thin  and  carelessly  worn  disguise.  For 
ignoble  aims,  shamelessly  pursued,  Cond6  soiled 
his  glory  in  the  mire  of  faction ;  abased  his  genius, 
impelled  by  its  natural  instincts  to  soar  like  the 
eagle,  in  slimy  paths  of  intrigue;  cast  to  the 
winds  the  obligations  of  public  principle  and  of 
private  honour ;  and  finally,  in  the  guilty  madness 
of  credulous  vanity  and  distempered  pride,  com- 
mitted the  last  political  crime  in  delivering  up  his 
country  to  civil  war,  and  the  sword  of  a  foreign 
enemy. 


153 


CHAPTER  IV. 


/ 


The  success  of  Cond^  was  equal  to  the  justice  of 
his  cause.     At  first  his  criminal  enterprise  was 
gilded  by   some    transient    gleams    of    success. 
Leaving  his  family  in  Berri,  to  keep  that  province 
faithful  to  his   interests,  he  proceeded   with  La 
Rochefoucault   to   his    Government   of  Guienne. 
The  Parliament   and   citizens   of  Bordeaux   em- 
braced his  party  with  enthusiasm ;  the  provincial 
magnates,  who  had  formerly  looked  with  coldness 
on  the  heroic  efforts  of  his  wife,  mustered  their 
vassals,  and  sent  them  to  swell  his  ranks.     The 
Count  of  Marsin,  Commander  of  the  Army  of 
Catalonia,  abandoning  a  province  which  had  been 
occupied  by  the  French  since  the  time  of  Cardinal 
Richelieu,  brought  part  of  his  troops  to  aid  the 
insurrection.     Lenet,  despatched  as  the  Prince's 
Ambassador  to  the  Court  of  Madrid,  was  flattered 
with  promises  of  immediate  and  powerful  suc- 

H  5 


154 


cours.  In  the  Nortli,  the  Count  of  Tavannes  suc^ 
ceeded  in  detaching  Conde's  regiments  from  the 
Army  of  Flanders,  and  erected  the  standard  of 
revolt  upon  the  walls  of  Stenay. 

But,  even  in  the  beginning,  the  defections  from 
his  party  fatally  diminished  its  strength  and  re- 
putation.    In  the  eyes  of  all  Frenchmen,  of  those 
even   who   had   grown   grey   in   conspiring,  the 
majority  of  the  Sovereign  lent  a  far  graver  and 
more  sinister  complexion  to  an  act  of  rebellion. 
His    brother-in-law,   Longueville,    whose    good- 
natured  tolerance  was  at  length  wearied  out  by 
the   scandalous  profligacy  of  his   wife,  and   the 
domineering   arrogance    of     his    brother-in-law, 
declined   to   incur   further  risks   on   account  of 
schemes  in  which  he  was  not  personally  interested, 
and  kept  Normandy  in    its    allegiance    to   the 
Crown.     The  two  distinguished  brothers.  Bouillon 
and    Turenne,   who   had    been    his    ablest    and 
staunchest  supporters  during  the  war  of  Bordeaux 
fell  from  him.    Bouillon  could  bring  four  thousand 
retainers  into  the  field,  and  the  military  talents  of 
Turenne  were  worth  an  army.     Mazarin  knew  the 
value  of  these  redoubtable  chiefs;  and  by  per- 
suading  Anne   of   Austria   to   satisfy   the  long- 
debated  claims  of  the  Duke,  won  them  over  to 
his  party,  and  purchased,  at  a  cheap  price,  for  the 


155 

young  King  as  splendid  and  loyal  services  as  any 
monarchy  could  ever  boast  of.  f'Conde^s  alliance 
with  the  Spaniards,  which  soobr  became  public, 
without    adding    -     any   great    degree    to    his 
material  strength,  weakened  his  cause  morally  in 
an  irreparable  degree.     The  Parliament  of  Paris 
no  longer  hesitated  to  register  the  King^Jetter, 
declaring  him  and  his  partizans  traitorsj    The 
Parliament  of  Bordeaux  was  alienated  from  his 
interests.      The   Duke   of    Orieans  broke  off  all 
relations    with   the   proclaimed  enemies   of   the 

realm 

The   Kegent    acted  with    her  usual   courage. 
Taking  with  her  the  young  King  she  joined  the 
veteran  army  of  the  Count  of  Harcourt,  a  General 
of  proved  ability,  and  advanced  into  Berri.     The 
people  of    the  province    received  their    young 
Monarch  with  joyful  demonstrations ;  the  towns 
threw  open  the  gates  to  the  royal  troops,  Conti, 
Madame    de  Longueville,  and    the   Princess  of 
Conde  flying  for  refuge  to  Bordeaux.     Harcourt 
then  marched  to  attack  Conde  in  Guienne.     All 
the  Prince's  genius  and  activity  was  insufficient 
to  counter-balance  the  inferior  quality  of  his  raw 
levies,  or  to  avert  from  them  several  slight  but 
galling  defeats.     Tarnished    prestige,    and    the 
harsh  measures,   and  harsher  manners  of  their 


154 

conrs.  In  the  North,  the  Count  of  Tavannes  suc« 
ceeded  in  detaching  Cond6^s  regiments  from  the 
Army  of  Flanders,  and  erected  the  standard  of 
revolt  upon  the  walls  of  Stenay. 

But,  even  in  the  beginning,  the  defections  from 
his  party  fatally  diminished  its  strength  and  re- 
putation.    In  the  eyes  of  all  Frenchmen,  of  those 
even   who   had   grown   grey   in   conspiring,  the 
majority  of  the  Sovereign  lent  a  far  graver  and 
more  sinister  complexion  to  an  act  of  rebelHon. 
His    brother-in-law,   Longueville,    whose    good- 
natured  tolerance  was  at  length  wearied  out  by 
the   scandalous  profligacy  of   his   wife,  and   the 
domineering   arrogance    of     his    brother-in-law, 
declined   to   incur   further  risks   on   account  of 
schemes  in  which  he  was  not  personally  interested, 
and  kept  Normandy  in    its    allegiance    to   the 
Crown.     The  two  distinguished  brothers.  Bouillon 
and    Turenne,   who   had    been    his    ablest    and 
staunchest  supporters  during  the  war  of  Bordeaux 
fell  from  him.    Bouillon  could  bring  four  thousand 
retainers  into  the  field,  and  the  military  talents  of 
Turenne  were  worth  an  army.     Mazarin  knew  the 
value  of  these  redoubtable  chiefs;  and  by  per- 
suading  Anne   of   Austria   to   satisfy   the  long- 
debated  claims  of  the  Duke,  won  them  over  to 
his  party,  and  purchased,  at  a  cheap  price,  for  the 


155 

young  King  as  splendid  and  loyal  services  as  any 
monarchy  could  ever  boa^t  of .  i'Conde's  alUance 
with  the  Spaniards,  which  soobr  became  public, 
without    adding    in    any   great    degree    to    his 
material  strength,  weakened  his  cause  morally  in 
an  irreparable  degree.     The  Parliament  of  Pans 
no  longer  hesitated  to  register  the  KingXJetter, 
declaring  him  and  his  partizans  traitorsj-   The 
Parliament  of  Bordeaux  was  alienated  from  his 
interests.      The   Duke   of    Orleans  broke  off  all 
relations    with   the    proclaimed   enemies   of   the 

TPalm 

The  Eegent    acted  with    her  usual  courage. 
Taking  with  her  the  young  King  she  joined  the 
veteran  army  of  the  Count  of  Harcourt,  a  General 
of  proved  abiUty,  and  advanced  into  Bern.     The 
people  of    the  province    received  their    young 
Monarch  with  joyful  demonstrations;  the  towns 
threw  open  the  gates  to  the  royal  troops,  Conti 
Madame    de  Longueville,  and    the   Princess  of 
Conde  flying  for  refuge  to  Bordeaux.     Harcourt 
then  marched  to  attack  Conde  in  Guienne.     All 
the  Prince's  genius  and  activity  was  msufficient 
to  counter-balance  the  inferior  quality  of  his  raw 
levies,  or  to  avert  from  them  several  sUght  but 
galling   defeats.     Tarnished    prestige,    and    the 
harsh  measures,  and  harsher  manners  of  their 


156 


leader,  provoked  disaffection  among  tlie  insur- 
gents ;  and  public  disaster  was  aggravated  by  the 
scandalous  disorders  which  broke  out  in  Conde's 
family,  converting  Bordeaux  into  a  chaos  of 
tumult  and  murder.  In  her  journey  from  Berri 
Madame  de  Longueville  had  engaged  in  a  liason 
with  the  Duke  of  Nemours,  which  aroused  the 
jealous  anger  of  La  Kochefoucault.  Conde  pre- 
vented further  mischief  by  despatching  Nemours 
to  take  the  command  at  Stenay.  But  shortly 
afterwards  Conti,  whose  weak  nature,  ever  in 
extremes,  passed  at  a  bound  from  degrading  sub- 
mission to  frantic  violence,  quarrelling  with  his 
sister,  openly  reviled  her  in  language  that  out- 
raged common  decency.  The  Duchess,  in  order  to 
revenge  herself,  formed  a  party  among  the  dregs 
of  the  rabble,  who  were  called  Ormistes,  from  their 
nightly  gatherings  beneath  some  large  elm-trees, 
and  urged  them  on  to  brutal  excesses.  Bloodshed 
and  rapine  stalked  abroad  through  the  city. 
Conde,  already  fully  occupied  by  his  mihtary 
operations,  strove  in  vain  to  calm  these  dissen- 
sions. His  wife,  whom  the  Bordelais  revered  and 
loved,  brought  all  her  influence  to  the  support  of 
the  magistrates.  Her  courage  and  wisdom  might 
have  restored  order;  but,  unfortunately,  the 
deHcate  condition  of  her  health  compelled  her  to 


) 


157 


\ 


retire  from  the  conflict,  and  abandon  her  old 
asylum  to  the  unbridled  licentiousness  of  a  ferocious 
mob.  With  his  arms  clouded  by  reverses,  and 
his  party  torn  by  discord,  Conde  saw  himself  on 
the  brink  of  ruin,  from  which  he  was  only 
snatched  by  another  blunder  on  the  part  of 
Cardinal  Mazarin. 

The  links  that  bound  Anne  of  Austria  to  her 
favourite,  forged  as  they  were  of  intellectual  con- 
viction   as    well    as    of    affection,   were    of    an 
indissoluble    nature,    which    neither    peril,    nor 
interest,  nor  time,  nor  absence,  had  any  power 
over.       As   with    all    women    of    resolute   and 
wilful  character,  opposition  and  opprobrium  only 
drove  the  Regent  to   cling  more  tenaciously  to 
what   she   cherished.      Never   had   the    Cardinal 
more  absolutely  guided  the  councils  or  directed 
the  movements  of  her  Government  than  during 
his  retirement  at  Bruhl.     But  he  did  not  bear 
adversity   well.      His    mind    was    tortured     by 
gnawing  anxiety,  by  jealous  fears  and  suspicions. 
His  letters  were  filled  with  puling  lamentations 
and  peevish  reproaches,  interspersed  with  appeals, 
couched  in  the  language  of  high-flown  sentiment, 
to  his  only  too-devoted  mistress,  to  abridge  the 
period  of  his  banishment.     To  the  minds  of  both, 
her's  always  sanguine  and  fearless,  his  cheated  out 


158 


of  its  habitual  caution  by  the  illusions  which  are 
born  of  the  weary  yearnings  of  exile,  the  time 
seemed  now  ripe  for  his  return  to  France.  The 
royal  authority  was  obeyed  without  question  over 
nearly  the  whole  kingdom.  The  only  antagonist 
whom  they  feared,  banned  as  a  public  enemy, 
and  losing  ground  daily  in  the  corner  of  France 
to  which  he  was  driven,  appeared  to  be  reduced 
to  the  alternative  of  submission  or  flight.  Col- 
lecting a  body  of  troops  in  the  Bishopric  of  Liege, 
Mazarin  crossed  the  French  frontier,  joined  the 
King  and  Queen-mother  at  Poitiers,  and  resumed 
the  direction  of  affairs.  But  the  explosion  of 
public  resentment  which  followed  this  rash  step 
taught  him  to  regret  his  precipitation.  The  Par- 
liament of  Paris,  incensed  at  his  contempt  for  its 
decrees,  set  a  price  on  his  head.  The  Parisians 
shouted  the  old  war  cries  of  faction  with  unabated 
hatred  and  zeal.  De  E-etz,  to  whose  ambitious 
hopes  the  Cardinal's  return  to  office  was  a  death- 
blow, withdrew  his  support  and  that  of  his  party 
from  the  Government.  And  the  Duke  of  Orleans, 
irritated  into  open  revolt,  formed  an  alliance  with 
his  cousin,  whose  factious  proceedings  now  wore 
a  semblance  of  public  spirit,  and  assembled  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Paris  a  well-trained  army,  of 
which  he  entrusted  the  command  to  the  Duke  of 


! 


159 


Beaufort.  Beaufort  was  soon  joined  by  his 
brother-in-law,  the  Duke  of  Nemours,  at  the  head 
of  Conde's  veteran  regiments  from  Stenay  and  a 
body  of  Spaniards;  and  the  combined  forces 
advanced  towards  the  Loire,  into  the  region  where 
the  rich  appanages  of  Monsieur  lay. 

Had  either  of  the  Generals  possessed  military 
talent  the  position  of  the  Court  would  have  been 
perilous  in  the  extreme.  But  not  only  were  they 
both  totally  incompetent,  but  their  councils  were 
distracted  by  diverging  purposes  and  private 
animosity.  Nemours  wished  to  march  to  the 
relief  of  Montrond,  to  which  the  Royalists  had 
laid  siege;  Beaufort  had  orders  to  protect  the 
territories  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  Cardinal 
Mazarin  had  placed  Turenne  at  the  head  of  the 
King's  army  around  Poitiers,  though  only  in  joint 
command  with  Marshal  Hocquincourt,  and  his 
genius  so  well  supplied  the  disparity  of  strength 
that  the  excellent  quality  and  superior  numbers 
of  the  rebel  forces  barely  saved  them  from  destruc- 
tion. As  it  was,  the  insurgents  were  reduced  to  in- 
action, while  Angers,  Tours,  and  Blois  fell  before 
their  eyes ;  and  the  Royal  Commanders  advanced 
against  Orleans,  the  chief  and  only  remaining 
town  of  Monsieur.  The  danger  in  which  he  saw 
himself  of  being  stripped  of  all  his  possessions. 


160 


completely  paralysed  the  energies  of  that  feeble 
Prince.  Instead  of  showing  himself  at  the  head 
of  his  disheartened  troops,  and  confirming,  by  his 
presence,  the  wavering  fidelity  of  the  citizens  of 
Orleans,  he  betook  himself  to  bed  in  a  fit  of  ir- 
resolution. But  his  daughter  by  his  first  marriage, 
Mdlle.  de  Montpensier,  boldly  came  forward  to 
defend  her  fat  her  ^s  interests. 

This  celebrated  lady  was  now  about  twenty- 
five  years  old.  Flattery  never  endowed  her  with 
beauty.  Her  detractors  averred  that  the  brusquerie 
of  her  manners  was  strongly  dashed  with  imperti- 
nence. Her  inordinate  vanity  was  constantly 
shooting  forth  in  strange  eccentricities  of  speech 
and  action ;  and  was  prone  to  avenge  itself  on 
superior  merit  in  her  own  sex  by  shafts  of  ridi- 
cule, occasionally  tipped  with  the  poison  of 
feminine  malignancy.  But  she  possessed  a  daring 
soul,  generous  impulses,  a  strong  will,  and  con- 
siderable talent.  Having  inherited  through  her 
mother  the  vast  possessions  of  the  Ducal  House  of 
Montpensier,  she  was  the  richest  heiress  of  the  age, 
and  her  hand  was  an  object  of  ambition  even  to 
Kings.  Indeed,  the  chief  cause  of  her  undissembled 
ill-humour  with  the  Eegent  and  Cardinal  Mazarin 
was,  that  they  had  frustrated  more  than  one 
matrimonial  alKance  on  which  she  had  set  her 


161 


heart,  deeming  it  contrary  to  the  interests  of  the 
State  that  her  vast  estates  should  pass  under  the 
control    of    a    foreign    Prince.     Charles   II.   of 
England,  while  in  exile  at  the  French    Court, 
figured   among    her   suitors.     But  it  is   difficult 
indeed  to  discover  any  promise  of   the  ''Merry 
Monarch,"  whose  graceful  bow,  ready  wit,  and 
flowing  courtesy  were  the  crowning  charm  of  one 
of   the  most  brilliant   courts  of  modern  Europe, 
in  the  gloomy  and  bashful  youth,  to  whom  the 
language  of  gallantry,    or  even   of  compliment, 
seemed  unknown.     Perhaps  the  part  of  the  im- 
passioned lover  was  not  easy  with  the  "  grande 
Mademoiselle."     At  all  events  she  seems  to  have 
looked  on  him  as  a  sort  of  delicate  monster,  re- 
cording with  specialinterest  his  voracious  onslaught 
upon  a  joint  of  mutton.     The   needy  and  harsh- 
featured   wanderer  was  not  to  the  taste  of   the 
high-spirited  Princess.      She  appears  at  this  time 
to  have  cherished  the  hope  which,  notwithstanding 
a  great  disparity  of  age,  Anne  of  Austria  and  the 
Cardinal  encouraged,  of  ascending  the  throne  of 
France  as  the  bride  of  Louis  XIY.     Her  secret 
partialities  had  long  been  with  Conde.    She  lets 
it  be  seen  in    her    curious,  though  insufferably 
egotistical  memoirs,  that  she  would  willingly  have 
married  him  in  the  event  of  his  wife's  death ;  and 


162 

she  ever  displays  towards  that  noble  woman  a 
peculiar  vindictiveness.  After  withering  until  the 
late  autumn  of  her  life  in  thorny  virginity,  Mdlle. 
de  Montpensiergave  her  hand  in  secret  nuptials  to 
the  Count  of  Lauzun,  so  famous  for  his  escapades 
at  the  Court  of  the  Great  King,  and  the  gallant 
services  he  rendered  to  Mary  of  Modena  and  her 
ill-starred  husband;  and  she  was  compelled  to  atone 
for  her  mature  indiscretion  by  granting  the  rever- 
sion of  her  enormous  property  to  the  French 
Crown. 

Mademoiselle  arrived  at  the  camp  of  Beaufort 
and  Nemours  to  find  the  army  disorganised  by  the 
dissensions  of  its  leaders.     These  noblemen  were 
so  inflamed  against  each  other  that  they  came  to 
blows  in  her  presence,  and  though  she  succeeded 
m   composing  the  quarrel  for    the   time,   their 
smouldering  resentments  afterwards    leaped    up 
mto  a  fratricidal   duel,  in  which  Nemours    was 
killed.     Escorted  by  her  ladies,  she  boldly  pre- 
sented  herself  at  one  of  the  gatesof  Orleans  and  de- 
manded admittance,just  as  an  envoy  from  the  Kin^- 
had  arrived  at  the  opposite  entrance  to  summon  the 
town.     The  magistrates  were  divided  in  opinion, 
and  refused  to  receive  either  party.     Mademoiselle 
stormed  and  cajoled  to  no  purpose,  the  officer  in 
charge  of  the  gate  replying  to  her  objurgations 


' 


163 

only  with  profound  bows.     But  while  she  was 
allowing  her  anger  to  evaporate  in  a  solitary  stroll 
along  the  bank  of  the  river,  some  of  the  boatmen, 
crowding  round  her,  pointed  out  a  barricaded  sally- 
port, looking  on  the  quay,  in  which  a  breach  might 
easily  be  effected.     At  her  instigation  they  made 
an  opening,   through  which  they    dragged  and 
pushed  her  and  two  of  her  ladies  into  the  town. 
The  populace,  yelling  with  enthusiasm,  carried  her 
in  triumph,  all  be-draggled   and    partially    dis- 
arrayed, but  delighted  with  the  adventure,  to  the 
Hotel  de  Ville,  where  she  terrified  the  magistrates 
into   submission.     By    this  achievement,  which, 
half  heroic,    half    ludicrous,    well    reflected    the 
character  of  the  heroine.  Mademoiselle  de  Mont- 
pensier  preserved  the  city  of    Orleans    for    her 

father. 

While  Conde  was  painfully  battling  with  the 
difficulties  which  beset  him  in  Guienne,  news 
reached  him  of  the  dissensions  of  Beaufort  and 
Nemours,  and  the  critical  situation  of  their  army. 
He  felt  that  should  this  veteran  force,  which  was 
the  main-stay  of  the  insurgent  cause,  melt  away 
or  be  destroyed,  the  loss  would  be  irreparable; 
and  his  intelligence  left  him  no  room  for  doubt 
with  regard  to  the  critical  position  to  which  it  was 
reduced  by  the  divisions  and  the  incompetency  of 


164 

its  chiefs.  His  presence  alone  could  save  it  from 
dissolution.  It  was  a  desperate  crisis ;  but  great 
actions  are  born  of  great  difficulties,  and  the 
Prince  now  conceived  one  of  the  boldest  enter- 
prises  that  ever  occurred  to  a  leader.  This  was 
to  traverse  one  hundred  and  twenty  leagues  of 
hostile  territory,  swarming  with  vigilant  foes, 
guarded  along  all  its  routes  by  strong  towns  and 
fortresses,  intersected  by  broad  and  rapid  rivers, 
the  bridges  and  fords  of  which  were  in  the  hands 
of  enemies,  and,  penetrating  Turenne's  lines,  to 
put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  Army  of  the  Loire. 
Recognition  would  involve  certain  captivity  or 
death,  and  his  person  was  so  well  known,  especially 
at  the  Court,  which  lay  in  his  track,  that  the  least 
suspicion  of  his  journey  must  infallibly  lead  to 
discovery.  The  most  profound  secresy,  the 
greatest  celerity,  and  rare  good  fortune  were 
necessary  for  success.  The  conduct  of  the  expedi- 
tion was  confided  to  the  skilful  audacity  and  the 
infinite  resource  of  Gourville. 

The  Prince  committed  the  command  in  Guienne 
to  his  brother  Conti,  leaving  him  the  Count  of 
Marsin  and  the  able  Lenet  as  assistants,  and  set 
out  on  the  evening  of  Pabn  Sunday,  1652,  in  the 
habit  of  a  courier.  He  was  accompanied  by  La 
Eochefoucault,  by  the  young  Prince  of  Marsillac, 


165 


a  boy  of  fifteen,  by  Gourville,  and  by  three  other 
gentlemen,  all  wearing  disguises.  They  travelled 
day  and  night,  avoiding  as  much  as  possible  the 
high  roads,  never  halting  longer  than  two  hours 
at  a  time  for  rest  and  food,  and  never  changing 
horses  unless  when  compelled  by  absolute  neces- 
sity. The  hair-breadth  escapes,  and  the  laughable 
incidents  which  chequered  the  journey,  continued 
long  afterwards  on  winter  evenings  to  furnish 
food  for  wonder  and  mirth  at  provincial  firesides. 
By  a  bold  stratagem  Gourville  obtained  possession 
of  one  of  the  boats  at  a  ferry  on  the  Dordogne, 
and  the  party  crossed  over  without  incurring  the 
risk  of  inconvenient  questions  or  scrutiny.  Com- 
ing to  a  halt  at  a  little  out-of-the-way  hostelry, 
the  Prince  was  glad  to  escape  with  no  other 
injury  than  bitter  taunts  and  curses  from  the 
quick-tempered  inn-keeper,  who  was  enraged  by 
the  awkward  way  in  which  the  pretended  courier 
obeyed  an  order  to  bridle  a  horse.  In  another 
little  village  Conde  was  jeered  by  a  justly  incensed 
landlady,  for  letting  an  omelet,  which  he  had 
rashly  volunteered  to  cook,  fall  into  the  fire.  She 
let  him  off  with  a  shower  of  derisive  compliments, 
in  consideration  of  the  sound  rating  administered 
to  him  by  Gourville.  One  day  a  countryman  re- 
cognised Cond^,  and  called  out  his  name,  but  the 


166 


]67 


cool  impudence  of  the  imperturbable  Gourville 
cheated  the  bewildered  rustic  into  disbelief  of  his 
own  senses.  Another  day  the  party  was  hospitably 
entertained  by  a  gentleman  who,  unconscious  of 
the  quality  of  his  guests,  retailed  for  their  amuse- 
ment all  the  current  scandal  and  popular  jests  on 
the  subject  of  Madame  de  Longueville's  notorious 
gallantries.  They  crossed  the  Loire  in  a  boat, 
which  landed  them,  by  some  misadventure,  at 
the  very  gates  of  La  Charite,  a  strong  fortress 
commanded  by  Bussy  Rabutin,  whom  some 
real  or  fancied  injuries  had  changed  from  a 
staunch  adherent  to  a  bitter  foe  of  the  Prince. 
Cond^  and  Gourville  riding  forward,  without 
hesitation,  accosted  the  officer  on  guard,  passed 
themselves  off  as  comrades  in  arms,  who  having 
outstayed  their  leave  were  hurrying  to  rejoin  their 
regiments,  and,  leaving  affectionate  messages  for 
their  friend  Rabutin,  pursued  their  journey  un- 
impeded, under  the  walls  of  the  town.  A  still 
greater  danger  befell  the  adventurers  as  they  ap- 
proached the  Royal  Camp.  Being  under  the 
necessity  of  venturing  upon  the  high  road,  one 
cf  their  number,  the  Count  of  Guitaut,  was 
recognised  by  a  courier  from  the  Court.  By  this 
time  men  and  horses  were  completely  exhausted, 
the  Prince's  iron  frame  alone  being  able  to  endure 


the  constant  watching  and  fatigue.  Young 
Marsillac  had  fainted  several  times,  and  during 
the  later  stages  of  the  expedition  had  been  un- 
able to  sit  on  horseback  without  assistance.  The 
only  chance  of  safety  lay  in  separating  into  smaller 
bodies.  Conde,  La  Rochefoucault,  and  Marsillac 
kept  together.  Turning  their  horses  loose,  they 
crept  along  stealthily,  within  a  few  paces  of  each 
other,  seeking  cover  in  ditches  and  patches  of 
vegetation,  until  they  reached  the  chateau  of  the 
Duchess  of  Chatillon,  the  sight  of  which,  recalling 
the  recent  death  of  his  adoring  mother  within  its 
walls,  must  have  awakened  painful  regrets  in  the 
Prince's  mind.  They  passed  the  night  in  the 
chateau,  surrounded  by  detachments  of  the  enemy, 
and  the  following  day,  eluding  the  pursuit  of  the 
numerous  parties  sent  out  to  capture  them,  pre- 
sented themselves  in  safety  at  the  headquarters  of 
Beaufort  and  Nemours. 

Mazarin,  equally  unwilling  to  put  a  slight  upon 
the  long  and  distinguished  services  of  Hocquin- 
court,  and  to  lose  the  military  talents  of  Turenne, 
had  unwisely  divided  the  Royal  Army  into  two 
bodies,  and  given  to  each  of  the  Marshals  an 
independent  command.  Turenne's  troops  were 
quartered  around  Gien,  where  the  Court  resided. 
Hocquincourt  had  pitched  his  camp  a  few  leagues 


168 


in  advance,  near  Bleneau,  and,  despising  the  in- 
capacity of  Kis  opponents,  had  taken  little  care  to 
secure  his  position.  On  the  night  following 
Condi's  arrival  Turenne  was  aroused  from  sleep 
by  the  distant  tumult  of  battle  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Bleneau.  Starting  up,  he  rushed  into 
the  open  air  and  gained  an  eminence  that 
commanded  an  extensive  view.  The  camp  of 
Hocquincourt  was  wrapped  in  flames,  and  the 
light  of  the  conflagration  fell  on  disorderly  masses 
of  troops,  flying  in  hopeless  rout  before  the  furious 
attacks  of  the  insurgents.  Turenne  gazed  for  a 
moment  in  silent  amazement  on  the  disastrous 
spectacle,  and  then,  turning  to  his  officers,  said — 
"The  Prince  must  have  arrived."  The  great 
warrior  recognised  the  presence  of  kindred  genius 
in  that  scene  of  discomfiture  and  terror.  But  the 
peril  of  the  situation  left  the  Marshal  little  time 
for  reflection.  No  one  knew  so  well  as  he  the 
ardour,  sometimes  amounting  to  rashness,  with 
which  Conde  followed  up  an  advantage.  The  King 
and  Queen  reposed  in  complete  unconsciousness  of 
danger  at  Gien,  while  there  only  remained  his 
own  small  army  to  shield  them  from  captivity. 
He  was  equal  to  the  emergency.  Pushing  for- 
ward, with  extraordinary  boldness,  the  four  or 
five  thousand   men  under   his   command  into  a 


169 


position  partly  covered  by  woods,  which  concealed 
his  weakness,  he  vigorously  repelled  the  advance 
of  the  victorious  enemy.  Conde's  eagle  glance 
was  for  once  at  fault.  A  great  part  of  his  army, 
corrupted  by  lax  discipline,  had  dispersed  for 
plunder ;  and,  fearful  of  falling  into  an  ambuscade, 
after  one  somewhat  feeble  attack,  he  halted  his 
men  in  order  to  allow  time  for  the  stragglers  to 
rejoin  their  ranks.  The  hours  thus  wasted 
enabled  Hocquincourt  to  rally  his  beaten  division, 
and  bring  it  up  to  the  support  of  his  colleague. 
Turenne,  no  longer  fearing  to  be  crushed,  confi- 
dently awaited  the  enemy  in  his  strong  position, 
which  his  antagonist,  having  discovered  his  error 
too  late,  did  not  now  venture  to  assail.  And  thus, 
on  this  extraordinary  day,  the  fiery  Conde  lost, 
through  want  of  daring,  the  opportunity  which  he 
had  purchased  by  such  prodigies  of  hardihood  and 
endurance,  of  rendering  himself  master  of  France 
by  a  single  blow ;  and  the  cautious  Turenne 
replaced,'^  to  use  the  words  of  Anne  of  Austria, 
the  crown  on  the  head  of  her  son"  by  a 
manoeuvre,  the  success  of  which  could  not  redeem 
it  in  the  eyes  of  such  a  friendly  critic  as  Napoleon 
from  the  fault  of  excessive  rashness. 

a\iter  this  exploit,  so  brilliant  even  in  its  partial 
failure,   Conde   taking   with   him  the   Dukes   of 

VOL.   II.  I 


■€( 


(C 


170 


171 


Beaufort,  Nemours,  and  La  Rochefoucault,  and 
leaving  the  command  of  the  army  to  the  Coimts 
of  Tavannes  and  Vallon,  two  officers  who  enjoyed 
his  confidence,  set  out  for  Paris,  where  his  interests 
urgently  demanded  his  presence. 

His  first  few  weeks^  experience  in  Guienne  had 
rudely  dispelled  the  vainglorious  illusions  with 
which  the  Prince  had  entered  upon  the  civil  war. 
His  military  genius,  with  the  advantages  of  the 
most  splendid  prestige,  and  the  most  powerful 
following  of  any  subject  in  Europe,  and  of  alhance 
with  Spain,  could  not  avert  disgraceful  defeat  in 
a  struggle  for  personal  ends,  which  ralHed  the 
patriotism  and  loyalty  of  France  around  the  throne 
of  his  young  Sovereign.  The  selfish  impatience 
which  precipitated  Cardinal  Mazarines  return  to 
France,  in  defiance  of  law  and  of  public  opinion 
had,  by  partially  relieving  the  ill-judged  enterprise 
of  Conde  from  the  crushing  odium  of  wanton 
rebellion,  and  by  raising  up  for  him  unexpected 
allies,  rescued  him  from  destruction.  But  Conde 
felt  that  he  could  only  make  a  successful  stand 
against  legitimate  authority  by  a  cordial  union 
with  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  who  possessed  the  con- 
fidence of  the  middle  classes,  especially  in  the 
Capital ;  and  by  winning  the  countenance  of  the 
Paiiiament  of  Paris,  which,  though  it  had  placed 


a  price  on  Mazarin's  head,  upheld  the  King's 
decree  against  himself  and  his  partizans.  In  ac- 
complishing these  purposes  he  had  to  vanquish 
the  opposition  of  an  enemy  as  skilful  and  more 
determined  than  Mazarin  himself. 

pde  Retz  had  now  succeeded  his  uncle  as  Arch- 
bishop of  Paris.  When  Mazarin's  sudden  re- 
appearance at  Court  dashed  the  long-desired  and 
scarcely  tasted  cup  of  power  from  his  lips,  the 
Archbishop  had  betaken  himself  again  to  the 
government  of  his  diocese,  the  rage  and  despair 
of  baffled  ambition  consuming  his  haughty  soul. 
But  his  animosity  towards  his  Italian  rival,  in- 
tense as  it  was,  paled  before  his  hatred  and 
distrust  of  Cond^.  Though  he  used  all  his 
arts  to  alienate  the  Duke  of  Orleans  from  the 
Queen,  he  was  not  less  eager  in  dissuading 
the  Duke  from  an  alliance  with  the  Prince. 
He  strove  to  reconstruct  out  of  the  remnant 
of  the  Fronde  that  still  adhered  to  him,  and 
the  Parliament  and  citizens  of  Paris,  a  con- 
stitutional party,  under  the  nominal  leadership  of 
Orleans,  which  opposing  Mazarin  and  Cond^, 
irresponsible  despotism,  and  selfish  faction,  would 
maintain  the  Royal  authority  as  limited  by  the 
Declaration  of  the  24th  of  October.  But  this  com- 
bination, which,  though  it  may  have  had  its  root  in 

I  2 


172 


173 


his  personal  ambition,  was  worthy  of  the  enlightened 
genius  of  De  Retz,  and  was  consistent  with  the 
general  scope  of  his   policy  from  the  beginning, 
failed,  notwithstanding  that  it  attracted  the  cordial 
sympathies  of  Mole  and  his  friends,  on  account  of 
the  lack  of  public  spirit  in  the  country ;  the  weak- 
ness of  Monsieur,  the  selfish  pride  of  the  nobles, 
the    selfish  timidity   of   the  burghers,   and    the 
demoralization   of  the  populace.     De   Eetz  then 
withdrew  himself  almost  completely  from  active 
participation  in  pohtics,  only  appearing  from  time 
to  tim^  to  assist  the  Magistrates  in  preserving 
order.  \  While  Conde  was  still  in  Guyenne,  feeling 
the  necessity  of  destroying  an  influence  so  pre- 
judicial to  his  cause  in  Paris,  he  had  commissioned 
Gourville  to  carry  off  the  Archbishop  from  his 
palace,   and   deliver   him   up   to   the   Spaniards. 
Gourville  laid  his  plans  with  his  usual  audacity 
and  skill,  but  the  enterprise,  so  congenial  to  his 
temper,  miscarried  at  the  last  moment  through 
an  accident,  and  he  had  to  fly  for  his  life.     After 
this  narrow  escape,  and  while  the  poHtical  fortunes 
of  De  Retz  were  seemingly  at  their  lowest  ebb, 
by  one  of  those  strange  turns  of  destiny  visible 
throughout  his  eventful  career,  the  great  prize 
which  all  his  Hf  e  he  had  laboured  in  vain  to  secure, 
fell  to  him  unasked  for,  and  when  it  had  probably 


passed  beyond  the  range  of  his  hopes.  The  Regent 
had  requited  his  services  against  Cond^,  during 
Mazarin's  absence  at  Bruhl,  by  a  nomination  for 
a  Cardinal's  hat.  After  her  favourite's  return, 
she  sent  to  Rome  to  cancel  the  appointment.  The 
Pope,  however,  at  the  next  creation  of  Cardinals, 
elevated  De  Retz  to  a  seat  in  the  conclave.  It 
was  through  the  spontaneous  act  of  the  Pontiff 
that  the  baffled  demagogue  and  discarded  Minister 
acquired  the  dignity  he  so  greatly  coveted  of 
Prince  of  the  Church,  and  the  appellation  under 
which  he  is  famous  to  all  time. 

Conde's  presence  in  the  Capital  gave  him  com- 
plete sway,  for  the  time,  over  the  mind  of  his 
volatile  cousin.  The  confederate  Princes,  in  order 
to  conciliate  the  favour  of  the  Parliament,  issued 
a  Declaration  setting  forth,  in  the  language  of 
exalted  patriotism,  that  having  taken  up  arms 
solely  to  free  the  realm  from  the  evil  rule  of  a 
foreign  Minister,  they  were  ready  to  disband  their 
troops  when  he,  in  obedience  to  the  edict  of  the 
High  Court,  retired  from  France.  But  Mole  and 
his  colleagues,  being  well-informed  of  the  close 
relations  subsisting  between  the  rebel  chiefs  and 
the  Spanish  Army,  then  ravaging  the  northern 
provinces,  and  also  of  the  private  negotiations 
with   Mazarin   which  Conde   was    at   that    very 


174 

moment  carrying  on  through  the  Duchess  of 
Chatillon,  treated  this  specious  manifesto  with  the 
contempt  it  merited,  and  publicly  reproached  its 
authors  with  their  treason  and  perfidy.  The 
Princes,  stung  by  these  just  denunciations,  resorted 
to  intimidation.  Wielding  with  unskilful  hands 
the  dangerous  weapons  of  De  Eetz,  they  excited 
the  rabble  against  the  Magistrates,  and  being 
unable  to  curb  the  demon  they  had  raised,  the 
city  fell  under  the  reign  of  lawless  violence. 

In  this  unprosperous  state  of  his  affairs,  death 
deprived  Cond^  of  his  ablest  councillor,  the  cele- 
brated Chavigny.  This  eminent  politician,  the 
favourite  pupil  of  Eichelieu,  having  been  long  con- 
demned to  obscurity  by  the  hatred  of  Anne  of 
Austria  and  the  jealousy  of  Mazarin,  had  lately 
become  the  chief  adviser  of  the  Prince.  At  the 
time  of  his  decease  he  was  busy  with  a  project 
which  redounded  little  to  the  credit  of  his  patron. 
News  having  arrived  in  Paris  that  the  Princess  of 
Conde  was  fast  sinking  under  a  mortal  illness  at 
Bordeaux,  neither  esteem  for  her  virtues  nor 
gratitude  for  her  services  restrained  her  husband 
from  an  indecent  exhibition  of  joy  at  the  prospect 
of  being  released  from  ties  that  had  always  galled 
him;  and  he  immediately  commissioned  Chavigny 
to   arrange   for  his   second    nuptials  with  Made- 


175 

moiselle    de    Montpensier.      But    the   Princess, 
having  given  birth  to  a  son,  and  having  lingered 
long  between  life  and  death,  began  slowly  to  mend, 
to  the  intense  vexation  of  her  lord,  and  the  intense 
delight  of  the  faithful  Gascons.    Little  could  these 
generous  hearts  divine  how  cruel   was  the  fate 
which  then  snatched  their  heroine  from  the  grave. 
Whilst  abortive  political  and  matrimonial  in- 
trigues distracted  Conde's  attention  from  military 
operations,  Tavannes  and  Yallon,  out-generalled 
and  beaten  by   Turenne,  now  in  supreme  com- 
mand of  the  Koyal  Army,  found  themselves  shut 
up,  with  diminished  forces,  in  the  town  of  Etampes, 
and  reduced  to  the  last  extremity.     In  compliance 
with  urgent  demands  for  assistance  from  the  rebel 
Princes,  their  Spanish  allies  prevailed  on  the  Duke 
of  Lorraine,  by  the  payment  of  a  large  subsidy,  to 
march  his  army— all  that  remained  to  him  of  the 
rich  territory  of   which  he  was  Sovereign— into 
the  heart  of  France.     This  seasonable   diversion 
extricated    the    insurgents  ;     uniting    with    the 
soldiers  of  Lorraine  they  retired  on  Paris,  closely 
followed  by  Turenne. 

A  trial  of  strategical  skill  followed,  in  which 
the  Royal  commander,  though  inferior  in  strength, 
baffled  all  the  efforts  of  the  confederates  to  crush 
him ;  and  then  the  needy  Duke  of  Lorraine,  moved 


176 


177 


by  the  golden  arguments  of  Mazarin^  suddenly- 
retired  over  tlie  frontier,  leaving  his  allies  to  shift 
for  themselves. 

The   rebel   army,  now  reduced  to   about  five 
thousand  men,  was  exposed  by  this  desertion  to 
be  overwhelmed  at  St.  Cloud  by  the  simultaneous 
attacks  of  Turenne  and  Marshal  la  Ferte,  who  had 
marched  to  Turenne's  assistance  from  the  borders 
of  Flanders ;  and  Cond6  went  forth  again  to  lead  it 
through  the  city  to  a  safer  position  at  Charenton. 
But  the  municipal  authorities,  who  were  loyal  to 
the  King  and  justly  indignant  at  the  frightful 
disorders  which  mocked  their  rule,  with  the  aid  of 
De   Retz,   prevailed  on   the   unstable   Orleans  to 
allow  the   gates   to   be  shut   against   his  cousin. 
The  Prince,  thus  caught  in  a  trap,  endeavoured 
in  the  short  night  of  the  1st  July,  1652,  to  draw 
off  his  men  under  the  shadow  of  the  city  walls. 
But  he  was  unable  to  elude  the  unsleeping  vigi- 
lance of  Turenne ;   and  when,  at  break  of  day,  he 
reached  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine,  his  rear  was 
so  hotly  pressed  by  overwhelming  numbers  that 
he  was  compelled  to  halt  and  give  battle. 

Three  streets  forming  the  Faubourg  converged 
upon  an  open  space  before  the  Gate  St.  Antoine. 
These  he  caused  to  be  closed  with  barricades  and 
such  entrenchments   as   could  be  hastily  thrown 


if 


up,   and  committed  their   defence   to   Nemours, 
Tavannes,  and  Vallon.     La  Rochefoucault  and  a 
chosen   body  of  gentlemen  remained  with  their 
leader  as  a  reserve,  ready  to  rush  upon  the  enemy 
wherever  succour  was  most  needed.     The  rear  of 
the  insurgents  rested  on  the  city  gate,  jealously 
barred  and  guarded  against  them,  and  the  gloomy 
walls  of  the  Bastille.     On  his  side  Turenne  made 
his   dispositions   for  the   attack   with   his   usual 
promptitude  and  ability.     But  this  great  General 
rated  too  highly  the  merits  of  his  old  commander 
to  throw  away  any  chance  of    success  in  conflict 
with  such  an  antagonist;  he,  therefore,    wished 
to  delay  the  assault  until  La  Ferte  had  come  up 
with  the  heavy  artillery.     The  young  King  and 
Mazarin,  however,  had  taken  their  station  on  the 
heights  of  Charonne  ^overlooking  the  battle-field, 
and  impatient  to  witness  the  destruction  of  the 
illustrious  rebel,  sent   message  after  message  to 
the  illustrious  Marshal,  urging  immediate  action. 
The  walls,  towers,  and  steeples  of  the  city  were 
alive  with  swarming  multitudes,  whose  gaze  was 
rivetted  by  a  terrible  fascination  on  the  bloody 
tragedy  that  soon  began  to  unfold  itself  beneath. 
The  battle  was  one  of  the  fiercest  and  most 
stubborn  in  the  annals  of  war.     The  Royal  troops, 
confident  in  an  overwhelming  superiority  of  force, 

I    5 


178 

and   eager  to  distinguish  themselves   under  the 
eyes  of  their  young  Monarch,  attacked  in  three 
columns   with   extraordinary  impetuosity.      The 
insurgents,  feeling  that  their  only  hope  of  safety 
lay  in  their  valour,  disputed  every  inch  of  ground 
with  the  most  determined  resolution.     Nemours, 
Tavannes,  and  Yallon  fought  on  the  barricades  at 
the  head  of  their  men.     La  Rochefoucault  sur- 
passed  even   the   splendid  gallantry  which    had 
rendered  the   ruined   defences  of  Bordeaux  im- 
pregnable.    Conde  himself,  in  his   fury  and  his 
prowess   seemed  more   than    mortal;    the   living 
image  of  the  God  of  War,  as  depicted  more  than 
two   thousand   years    before  in   immortal   verse 
by  the  greatest  of  poets.     His  terrible  counten- 
ance,  flaming  with  the  fierce  joy  of  conflict,  his 
voice  rolling  in  thunder  along  the  ranks  of  battle, 
and  the  lightning  strokes  of   his   sword  carried 
dismay  into  the  enemy  in  every  part  of  the  field. 
The  rapidity  of  movement  by  which  he  multiplied 
himself  at  the  points  of  danger  appeared  super- 
human.    ''  Did  you  see  the  Prince  of  Cond6  on 
that  day  V  was   afterwards   asked   of   Turenne. 
"  I  did  not  see  one  Prince  of  Conde,''  replied  the 
Marshal ;    ''  I   saw   more    than    twelve.''      The 
carnage  was  horrible.     The  combat  raged  from 
house  to  house,  from  gtory  to   story,  from  early 


179 


morning  till  noon.  At  mid-day  both  armies, 
exhausted  by  fatigue  and  the  intense  heat, 
were  compelled  to  desist  for  a  brief  interval 
of  repose.  But,  although  the  fate  of  the  engage- 
ment was  still  undecided,  the  superior  numbers 
and  materiel  of  the  King's  army  had  told  with 
fearful  effect  on  the  insurgents.  Turenne's 
guns  had  crushed  and  levelled  their  feebled 
defences,  and,  sweeping  the  streets  with  an 
iron  tempest,  had  made  sad  havoc  in  their 
ranks.  Half  the  Prince's  soldiers,  and  nearly  all 
their  leaders,  had  fallen.  La  Rochefoucault 's 
cheeks  were  pierced  by  a  musket  ball.  Nemours 
and  Vallon  were  carried  from  the  field  des- 
perately wounded.  Conde,  though  his  armour 
was  dented  with  blows,  remained  unscathed.  In 
the  middle  of  the  fight,  being  almost  suffocated 
by  the  heat,  he  had  caused  himself  to  be  disarmed 
and  undressed,  rolled  himself  over  and  over  in  an 
adjacent  field,  and  then,  refreshed  and  invigorated 
by  the  touch  of  his  mother  earth,  had  returned 
like  a  Titan  to  sustain  his  fainting  ranks.  Slowly 
recoiling  before  the  ever-increasing  masses  of  the 
Royalists,  he  took  advantage  of  the  pause  to  dis- 
engage his  remaining  troops  from  the  smoking 
ruins  of  the  Faubourg ;  and,  drawing  them  up  in  a 
compact  body  before  the  city  gate,  he  awaited  the 


180 

approach  of  his  foes  with  the  calm  courage  of 
despair.  Turenne,  having  been  reinforced  by  the 
fresh  army  and  powerful  artillery  of  La  Ferte, 
prepared  to  deliver  the  decisive  blow  which 
should  end  the  civil  war.  But  in  this  moment  of 
dreadful  suspense,  a  young  and  high-born  woman, 
alighting  upon  the  scene  like  some  goddess  in  a 
Homeric  battle,  robbed  the  Royalists  of  a  certain 
triumph  and  snatched  the  Prince  from  inevitable 
destruction. 

On  Conde's  departure  from  Paris,  the  Duke  of 
Beaufort  had  remained  behind,  and  though  unable 
to  defeat  the  hostile  measures  of  the  municipal 
authorities,  remained  true  to  his  friend.  As  the 
sounds  of  battle  came  floating  into  the  city ;  as 
the  emotions  of  admiration  and  pity  for  over- 
matched heroism  that  thrilled  the  spectators,  who 
crowded  every  turret  and  pinnacle,  flashed  with 
electric  sympathy  through  the  multitudes  below ; 
as  the  ghastly  heaps  of  the  wounded  piled  up 
against  the  city  gate  rose  higher  and  more 
hideous,  the  popular  ferment  burst  forth  in 
tumult,  and  Beaufort,  exerting  on  behalf  of  his 
hard  pressed  associates  the  rough  eloquence  which 
was  his  only  talent,  inflamed  by  stirring  harangues 
the  passions  of  the  populace.  The  popular 
clamour  compelled  the   municipal  authorities  to 


181 


allow  the  wounded  to  be  carried  within  the  walls, 
and  the  tears  and  prayers  of  these  brave  men, 
who,  unmindful  of  their  own  sufferings,  implored 
succour  for  their  gallant  comrades,  kindled  the 
public  agitation  into  fury.  Mademoiselle  de  Mont- 
pensier  boldly  seized  the  opportunity  to  save  her 
cousin.     She  first  wrung  from  the  fears  and  the 
compassion  of  her  irresolute  father  a  written  order 
to  the  Governor  of  the  Bastille  to  obey  her  direc- 
tions.     Then  proceeding    amidst    the   acclama- 
tions of  a  vast  multitude  to  the  Hotel  de  Yille, 
partly  by  coaxing,  partly  by  threats  of  personal 
violence,  she  extorted  from  old  Marshal  THopital, 
Governor  of  Paris,  and  the  Provost  of  the  Mer- 
chants, an  order  to  the  officer  in  command  at  the 
Gate  St.  Antoine  to  admit  the  rebel  army.     En- 
chanted with  her  success,  she  hurried  on  foot  to 
the  scene  of  battle.     Her  way  lay  along  the  street 
St.  Antoine,  which  was  choked  by  the  mournful 
procession  of  the  dying  and  the  dead.     At  every 
step  gaping  wounds  appalled  her  sight,  cries  of 
agony  assailed  her  ears,  the   pallid  anguish  of 
some  familiar  face  smote  her  heart.     She  met  La 
E-ochef  oucault,  blinded  and  insensible,  borne  along 
in  the  arms  of  his  son  and  of  Gourville.     She  met 
Vallon,  almost  expiring  in  a  litter,  who  called  out 
to  her  in  feeble  tones  that  all  was  lost;  and 


182 


183 


Guitaut,  faint  witli  loss  of  blood,  reeling  on  Ms 
horse  like  a  drunken  man.     Repairing  to  a  house 
near  the  ramparts,  she  sent  to  the  Prince  to  come 
and  see  her.     He  was  standing  at  a  short  distance 
from  the  gate,  calmly  watching  the  slowly  advanc- 
ing columns  of  Turenne,  the  gathering  thunder 
cloud  of  war  that  was  about  to  burst  in  ruin  on 
his  head.     His  face  was  hardly  to  be  recognised 
under  its  hideous  mask  of  clotted  dust  and  blood, 
and  the  long  matted  locks  that  hung  about  it  in 
wild  disorder ;  his  shirt  and  collar  were  smeared 
with  gore,  and  in  his  hand  was  a  naked  sword,  of 
which  he  had  flung  away  the  scabbard.     On  see- 
ing the  Princess  he  sank  upon  a  seat  and  burst 
into  tears.     ''Pardon  my  grief,''  he  said  to  her; 
''  I  have  lost  all  my  friends.''     She  soothed  him 
with   words   of    comfort,    ordered   the    Gate  St. 
Antoine  to   be  thrown   open,  and   the   guns   of 
the  Bastille  to  check  Turenne's  advance.     Cond^, 
disdaining  to  retreat  in  broad  day  before  Mazarin, 
held  his  ground  until  nightfall,  and  then  retired 
unmolested  within  the  walls.     The  astonishment 
of  the  Regent  and  the  Minister  at  the  escape  of 
their  great  enemy  was  only  equalled  by  their  in- 
dignation.    The  Cardinal  had  hitherto  favoured 
Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier's  aspiring  project 
to  become  the  bride  of  Louis  XIV.,  thinking  it 


I 


good  policy  to  attach  her  immense  possessions  to 
the  French  Crown.  But  when  he  learned  that 
she  had  ordered  the  cannon  of  the  Bastille  to 
play  upon  the  King's  army,  he  exclaimed,  with  a 
fixed  resolve  which  nothing  was  able  ever  after- 
wards to  shake,  "  She  has  killed  her  husband." 

The  presence  of  his  troops  within  its  walls 
rendered  Conde  master  of  Paris.  But  the 
majority  of  the  High  Court,  nothing  daunted, 
freely  expressed  their  disapproval  of  the 
weak  compliances  of  Marshal  I'Hopital  and  the 
Provost  of  the  Merchants,  to  which  he  owed  his 
safety.  The  Prince,  soured  and  rendered  reckless 
by  his  reverses,  retaliated  by  hounding  on  his 
soldiers  and  the  rabble  against  the  Chambers. 
He  was  unable  to  control  the  fiendish  passions  he 
had  let  loose,  and  the  city  was  again  delivered  up 
to  a  saturnalia  of  crime,  to  pillage,  murder,  and 
conflagration.  The  savage  rioters  attacked  the 
Palace  of  Justice  with  fire  and  sword,  and  it  was 
by  a  miracle  that  the  blazing  building  did  not 
become  the  funeral  pyre  of  the  slaughtered 
Magistrates.  Hundreds  of  the  citizens  were 
butchered  in  the  face  of  day.  The  High  Court 
suspended  its  sittings.  Mole  and  his  leading 
colleagues  fled  from  a  scene  in  which  law  and 
order  were  trampled  in  the  dust  by  a  licentious 


\ 


184 


185 


soldiery,  and  many  of  the  principal  inhabitants 
followed  their  example.  The  beleaguering  army 
of  Turenne,  cutting  off  the  regular  supplies  of 
provisions,  famine  came  to  glut  itself  with  victims 
whom  violence  had  spared,  and  pestilence  swept 
away  crowds  of  spectral  wretches  already  wasted 
by  hunger.  The  unhappy  Parisians,  all  but  the 
dregs  of  the  population,  the  vultures  of  society 
who  feast  amidst  carnage  and  desolation,  feeling 
that  the  rankest  despotism  could  not  corrupt  into 
evils  more  dreadful  than  those  deadly  fruits  of 
unbridled  license,  sighed  for  the  restoration  of 
the  Eoyal  authority.  Every  day  the  insurgent 
cause  sank  lower  and  lower.  It  was  to  little 
purpose  that  the  Duke  of  Lorraine,  having 
literally  fulfilled  his  engagement  with  Mazarin 
by  marching  out  of  France,  marched  back  again, 
and  compelled  Turenne  to  raise  the  siege  of  the 
Capital.  Tavannes  and  Vallon  led  out  the 
Princess  troops  to  co-operate  with  the  troops  of 
Lorraine.  But  although  the  Royalist  General, 
knowing  with  whom  he  had  to  deal,  did  not 
hesitate  to  place  his  small  army  in  exposed  posi- 
tions, his  incompetent  antagonists  failed  to  seize 
the  opportunities  he  afforded  them.  Conde, 
eaten  up  by  anguish  and  remorse  for  the  downfal 
of  his  party,  and  the  miseries  caused  by  his  guilty 


ambition,  and  worn  by  incessant  toils,  had  sue- 
cumbed  to  a  dangerous  fever.     He  was  only  able 
to  vent  his  impotent  rage  by  shouting  from  his 
sick  bed,  "  Give  bridles  to  Tavannes  and  Yallon; 
they  are  asses.^'     At  the  termination  of  a  fruitless 
campaign  the  Duke  of  Lorraine  again  retreated 
across  the  frontier ;  and,  to  add  to  Conde's  mis- 
fortunes, his  impregnable  fortress  of  Montrond, 
after     holding     out  for    a  year,     was    reduced 
by  famine.       The   astute   Mazarin,    seeing    the 
Fronde  at  the  last  extremity,  dealt  it  its  death 
blow  by  voluntarily  retiring  a  second   time  into 
exile.      The   more   uncompromising  members  of 
the  Parliament,  who  had  remained  in  the  Capital 
after  the  departure  of  their  First  President,  im- 
mediately declared  for  the  King,  and  drew  after 
them  the  whole  body  of  substantial  citizens.    The 
chiefs  of  the  insurrection,  in  the  blind  haste  o£ 
selfish  fear,  opened  separate  negotiations  with  the 
Court.     Anne  of  Austria  temporised,  until  terror 
and   distrust   had  broken  up  the  party.     Then, 
assuming  a  haughtier  tone,  she  announced  that  the 
season  of  concession  was  over,  that  she  required 
unconditional  submission.     In  truth  there   only 
remained  the  desperate  alternative  of  repairing  to 
the  Spanish  Camp. 

It  will  be  obvious,  even  from  this  feeble  sketch 


186 

of  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  Fronde/ that  it  con- 
tained in  itself,  from  the  very  beginning,  the  seeds 
of  its  own  destruction.  There  is  no  record  in 
history  of  a  struggle  of  equal  moment,  one  in- 
volving such  mighty  interests,  such  stupendous 
results,  and  sustained  by  the  utmost  energies  of 
so  many  men  and  women  endowed  with  most 
glorious  gifts  of  nature,  in  which  so  little  can  be 
found  to  inspire  the  fancy,  satisfy  the  judgment, 
or  elevate  the  heart.  It  was,  as  regards  the  vast 
majority  of  those  who  took  part  in  it,  a  war  of 
mean  passions  for  mean  objects,  relieved  indeed 
by  many  brilliant,  many  amusing,  and  by  some  ad- 
mirable incidents ;  episodes  dearly  purchased  by 
the  general  degradation  of  genius,  courage,  and 
beauty.  What  most  strikes  the  mind  contem- 
plating the  strife  of  the  Fronde,  is  an  absence 
of  moral  grandeur.  It  did  not  even  contain 
any  grand  element  of  terror.  It  wanted  even 
the  dignity  of  colossal  crime.  We  see  a 
strange  drama  in  which  feeble  tragedy  and 
broad  farce  are  fantastically  interwoven ;  in  which 
horrors,  bordering  on  the  ludicrous,  give  place, 
with  startling  rapidity,  to  more  ghastly  mirth; 
terror  with  little  of  sublimity,  ani  humour  de- 
generating into  Satanic  ribaldry.  /One  thing  aloi 
in  the    shifting    chaos    of    ficklb  passions    and] 


187 

\  grotesque  incidents,  of  vice  and  madness,  appears 
permanent.  This  is  an  all-pervading  spirit  of 
selfishness;  the  principle  of  disorder,  which 
quickened,  and,  by  quickening,  m-adually  destroyed, 
the  elements  of  social  confusion)  Grasping  Princes 
and  nobles,  aided  by  turbulent  demagogues, 
taking  advantage  of  popular  discontent  and  of  a 
long  minority,  seek  to  strip  newly  dowered  royalty 
for  their  own  aggrandisement;  an  alien  Minister, 
under  the  pretext  of  defending  the  rights  of 
the  Crown,  strives  with  equal  avidity  to  clutch 
undivided  authority,  and  enormous  wealth,  shame- 
fully pilfered  from  an  exhausted  exchequer  and  a 
famishing  people. 

But  in  intimate  alliance  with,  and  partly  con- 
cealed by,  the  play  of  base  and  frivolous  passions, 
an  issue  of  the  last  consequence  to  France  and 
to  Europe  was  fought  out  with  a  singleness  of 
purpose,  a  strength  of  conviction,  and  a  steadfast 
courage  worthy  of  its  magnitude.  Mathieu  Mole 
strove  to  win  and  to  preserve  inviolate  a  charter 
of  public  rights ;  and  Anne  of  Austria  strove  to 
maintain  the  absolute  prerogative  inherited  by  her 
son. 

When  France,  depressed  by  a  long  series  of 
disasters,  surrendered  to  Charles  VII.  the  right  of 
taxing  the  Third  Estate  without  its  consent,  she 


188 


enabled  her  Sovereigns^  by  pursuing  a  policy  aa 
crafty  as  it  was  patient  and  tenacious,  gradually 
to  destroy  every  authority  in  the  realm,  inde- 
pendent of  their  own.  They  raised  up  barriers 
of  privilege  between  the  different  orders  which, 
till  the  close  of  the  14th  century,  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  meet  frequently,  on  an  equal  footing,  in 
national  assemblies  for  the  discussion  and  the 
regulation  of  public  affairs ;  and  having  rendered 
co-operation  on  the  ground  of  common  interests 
impossible,  they  in  the  end  reduced  each  order  to 
absolute  subjection.  The  nobles,  exempted  from 
the  burthens  of  the  State,  and  monopoHsing  its 
honours  and  dignities,  from  being  an  aristocracy 
stiffened  into  a  caste,  and  ceasing  to  share  the 
motives  and  feelings  completely  lost  their  hold 
upon  the  mass  of  the  population.  Privileged 
but  isolated,  they  were  easily  crushed  by  open 
attack,  or  allured  to  Court,  saw  their  hereditary 
jurisdiction  silently  transferred  to  functionaries  of 
the  Crown.  The  cultivators  of  the  soil,  oppressed 
by  imposts,  not  only  arbitrary  and  capricious  in 
themselves,  but  rendered  insufferably  galling  by  a 
vicious  system  of  collection,  looked  with  envy  and 
hatred  on  their  rich,  untaxed  lords,  who,  without 
affording  them  protection,  increased  their  miseries 
by  a  harsh  exaction  of  feudal  services.     Such  of 


189 


the  peasants  as  were  fortunate  enough  to  acquire 
a  competence,  took  refuge  in  the  nearest  town 
under  the  shelter  of  municipal  institutions,  and,  if 
possible,  purchased  some  privileged  office  which 
separated  them  completely  from  their  former  life. 
But  the  towns  also  had  been  gradually  despoiled 
of  their  ancient  freedom.     Louis  XI.   had  made 
relentless  war  upon  them,  and  most  of  his  successors 
looked  with  a  jealous  eye  upon  their  remaining 
powers  and  franchises.     At  the  time  of  Cardinal 
Richelieu's     death,    the     Royal    authority    had 
emancipated  itself  from  all  constitutional  control — 
at  least,  in  the  pays    d'eleciion,  which  formed 
tliree  parts  of  the  kingdom — except  whatever  feeble 
restraint  might  exist  in  the  privilege  of  humble 
remonstrance  before  registering  the  King's  edicts, 
which  the  Minister  left  to  the  Parliament  of  Paris. 
The  liberty  of  all  French  subjects,  the  property  of 
the  middle  and  lower  classes,  lay  completely  at 
the  mercy  of  the  Crown.     To  make  security  of 
person   and   of    goods   the   birthright    of   every 
Frenchman — a  right    of    the    subject  which  has 
always   been   regarded    in   free   communities  as 
a    necessary    condition     of    good     government 
and    national   prosperity — and    to  constitute  an 
independent      and     vigilant     guardian    of    this 
right    by    vindicating    for    the    Parliament     of 


190 


191 


V 


Paris  its  ancient  claims  to  discuss  freely  and  to 
reject,  if  they  were  illegal  or  oppressive,  the 
King^s  edicts,  were  Mol^^s  objects.  Never,  per- 
haps, did  a  public  man  labour  for  more  worthy 
aims  with  truer  patriotism  or  more  heroic  courage. 
He  was  not,  indeed,  exempt  from  the  prejudices 
of  his  time  and  office,  or  from  narrow  partialities 
for  his  order.  He  desired  all  that  he  did  to 
extend  and  elevate  the  functions  of  the  High 
Court  beyond  all  authenticated  precedent;  and 
therefore  he  regarded  the  States  General  with  as 
much  jealousy  and  dislike  as  Anne  of  Austria 
herself.  But  in  the  circumstances  of  the  time  it 
might  well  have  seemed  to  him  that  this  profes- 
sional spirit  was  the  highest  public  spirit.  The 
nobles,  having  selfishly  betrayed  the  Third 
Estate,  had  for  long  past  evinced  only  a  disposi- 
tion to  profit  by  the  injustice  under  which  it 
suffered.  The  beneficed  clergy  and  the  eccle- 
siastical corporations  enjoyed  the  same  privileges 
as  the  nobles.  The  somewhat  cumbrous  ma- 
chinery of  the  States  General  having  long  been 
discarded  from  ordinary  use  in  political  life ;  and 
having,  when  tried  in  extraordinary  emergencies, 
proved  impotent  to  effect  reform,  chiefly  because 
the  privileged  being  separated  from  the  un- 
privileged classes,  not  only  by  a  sharply  defined 


line  of  distinction,  but  by  the  absence  of  common 
interests  and  common  sympathies,  the  King  could 
venture  to  treat  the  national  remonstrances  with 
neglect ;  the  only  hope  of  securing  juster  measure 
for  the  Third  Estate,  without  a  revolution,  might 
well  have  appeared  to  lie  in  investing  the  Parha- 
ment  with  a  power  of  control. 

Mole,  however,  committed  the  error  of  a 
generous  and  courageous  mind  in  attempting  to 
accomplish  a  political  reformation  with  inadequate 
means.  To  set  hmits  to  the  prerogative  of  the 
Crown  was  a  task  above  the  strength  of  the  Par- 
liament of  Paris.  This  was  clear  to  De  Eetz,  a 
man  of  far  less  pure  and  lofty  character  than  the 
First  President,  but  possessing  an  intellect  in- 
comparably more  powerful,  enlarged,  and  versa- 
tile. /Inspired  chiefly,  no  doubt,  by  personal 
ambition,  but  also  in  a  spirit  of  enlightened 
statesmanship,  De  Retz  conceived  the  design  of 
bringing  the  aspiring  genius  of  Conde,  the 
mihtary  turbulence  of  the  depressed  nobles, 
the  discontent  of  the  citizens,  and  the  passions 
of  the  populace  into  an  irresistible,  however 
ephemeral,  movement  which  might  compel  con- 
cession by  the  Regent  of  the  demands  of  the 
Parliament  of  Paris,  and  bear  himself  on  its  crest  \ 
to  the  direction  of    the  reformed   Government.    ) 


192 


The  political  duel  between  De  Retz  and  Mazarin, 
one  of  the  most  interesting  in  history,  was  not 
merely  a  strife  of  rival  ambitions.  It  was  also 
a  conflict  of  rival  principles,  and  it  involved  the 
issue  whether  an  absolute  or  a  limited  Monarchy 
was  to  be  established  in  France.  The  cham- 
pions were  not  unequally  matched.  Each 
was  weighted  with  scandalous  vices  that  sunk 
him  in  public  esteem.  The  Coadjutor  had  a 
more  splendid  and  daring  genius,  a  more 
exact  knowledge  of  the  condition  and  the  wants 
of  all  classes  of  society,  a  better  cause,  and  the 
public  favour ;  but  the  confederacy  on  which  he 
leant,  although  brilliant  and  formidable,  and  a 
miracle  of  political  skill,  was  built  upon  sand. 
Mazarin  excelled  in  patient  astuteness,  had  at 
command  almost  unlimited  means  of  corruption 
in  the  patronage  and  revenues  of  the  State,  rested 
on  the  support  of  established  power,  the  venerable 
name  of  a  King,  and  the  devoted  attachment  of 
one  of  the  ablest  and  most  resolute  Princesses  that 
ever  held  a  sceptre.  Mazarin — after  many  defeats, 
and  what  appeared  to  be  utter  discomfiture — 
finally  triumphed,  in  consequence  of  the  political 

r atheism  of  the  aristocratical  party  and  its  chief.] 
The  few  nobles  who  were  guided  by  any  principle  v 
sought  to    recover   their    ancient   power    while    ) 


193 

(  .retaining  their  recent  privileges,  to  change  the 
Jklonarchy  into  an  oligarchy  ;  but  the  great 
majority  of  them  were  merely  impelled  by  a  spirit 
of  rapine  to  plunder  the  State.  And  the  conduct 
of  Cond^ — who  alone  was  in  a  position  to  curb 
their  excesses,  and  even  to  give  a  patriotic  direc- 
tion to  their  energies — was  conspicuous  for  the 
absence  of  public  virtue,  of  statesman-like  sagacity 
and  self-control,  and  even  of  private  honour.  With- 
out having  the  excuse  of  his  followers  for  plunging 
into  faction,  for  he  had  been  gorged  by  the  Regent 
with  honours  and  ofiices,  he  sanctioned  their  most 
flagitious  acts  of  treason  towards  the  nation  and 
of  disloyalty  towards  each  other  by  his  own  pro- 
ceedings. Now  betraying  the  land  to  the  armies 
of  Spain  and  the  seditious  license  of  their 
adherents,  now  lending  Mazarin  their  swords, 
in  return  for  deceitful  concessions,  to  rivet  the 
yoke  of  misgovernment,  Conde  and  his  party 
were  content  to  ruin  the  State  so  that  they  were 
enriched  from  its  spoils.  \ 

But  no  man  nor  part^  no  matter  how  richly 
endowed  with  genius  and  advantages  of  fortune 
can  achieve  permanent  success  by  pursuing  aims 
nakedly  selfish.  The  personal  views  must  be, 
partially  at  least,  hidden  in  the  shadow  of  some 
broad  principle  which  commands  the  assent  of  the 
VOL.   II.  K  . 


f\ 


194 

national  intelligence,  or  must  be  linked  with  some 
general  interest,  or  some  powerful  sentiment  that 
throbs  with  a  strong  pulsation  in  the  heart  of  the 
masses.  Of  this  truth  the  party  of  the  New  Fronde 
and  their  leader  seemed  unconscious.  And  each 
of  them  sought  his  own  advantage,  not  only  with- 
out regard  to  the  public  welfare,  but  without 
regard  to  the  welfare  of  his  confederates.  There 
was  no  real  principle  of  cohesion  among  them. 
They  scoffed  at  the  ties  of  faith  and  honour. 
Fidelity  to  his  associates  or  treachery-  depended 
with  each,  mainly,  upon  his  immediate  inclination 
or  interest.  The  consequence  was  that  mutual 
distrust  and  the  distrust  of  the  country  sapped  the 
strength  of  the  party.  Perhaps  no  body  of  men 
ever  possessed  in  a  more  eminent  degree  the 
talents  and  the  courage  that  ordinarily  command 
success,  than  the  French  nobles  of  that  time. 
They  numbered  in  their  ranks  men  of  the  highest 
capacity  for  civil  affairs.  In  splendid  mihtary 
qualities  they  have  never  been  excelled.  Omitting 
from  the  comparison  Napoleon,  who  was  by  paren- 
tage, temperament,  and  all  but  the  mere  acci- 
dent of  conquest  an  Italian,  and  who  stands  apart 
in  history,  with  Hannibal  and  Julius  Csesar,  high 
above  common  rivalry,  the  twenty  years  of  war- 
fare that  followed  the  Revolution  of  1789,  during 


195 

which  the  French  armies  over-ran  Europe,  and  the 
martial  energies  and  ambition,  not  only  of  every 
Frenchman,  but  of  every  man  in  the  countries 
subject  to  France,  were  stirred  into  the  highest 
emulation,  not  only  by  a  vehement  spirit  of 
revolutionary  propagandism,  but  by  the  great 
prizes  in  the  career  of  arms,  even  kingdoms, 
thrown  open  to  all,  did  not  produce  as  many 
Generals  of  extraordinary  merit  as  were  found 
among  the  French  Princes  and  nobles  in  the 
single  reign  of  Louis  XIY.  Hoche,  Moreau, 
Massena,  Kleber,  perhaps  Dumouriez,  though 
illustrious  names,  pale  their  light  before  the 
brighter  glories  of  Conde,  Turenne,  Luxembourg, 
Vendome,  Villars,  three  of  them,  and  those  the 
greatest,  old  chiefs  of  the  Fronde ;  while  Harcourt, 
Catinat,  Boufflers,  and  many  others  scarcely 
inferior  in  renown,  might  boast  achievements 
which  well  compare  with  the  deeds  of  the  crowd  of 
Eepublican  Generals  and  Imperial  Marshals. 
Even  when  the  noblesse  had  greatly  degenerated, 
it  supplied  the  two  most  remarkable  Frenchmen 
of  the  Revolutionary  period,  Mirabeau  and 
Talleyrand.  But  intellect  and  courage  without 
faith  or  virtue  cannot  long  contend  successfully 
against  the  accumulating  moral  force  of    public 

reprobation. 

K  2 


196 


The  real  motives  of  tlie  Royalists  were,  as  a 
e,  equally  interested  ;  but  their  personal  objects 
were  in  a  great  measure  concealed  from  the 
popular  eye,  at  least  after  the  Eang  had  attained 
his  majority,  under  the  decent  cloak  of  loyalty. 
The  very  selfish  instincts  of  the  courtiers  impelled 
them  to  array  themselves  under  a  banner  on  which 
a  principle  intelligible  to  the  nation  was  inscribed, 
namely,  the  supremacy  of  the  Crown.  Labour- 
ing for  themselves,  they  proclaimed  themselves, 
and  with,  truth,  the  defenders  of  the  Throne  and 
of  order.  3  They  had  thus,  at  once,  a  common 
interest  and  a  public  aim  that  knit  them  together 
and  lent  a  sanction  to  their  efforts.  /  Union  gave 
them  strength,  and  their  consistent  support  of 
legitimate  authority,  contrasting  favourably  in  the 
public  estimation  with  the  profligate  freaks  of  an 
unprincipled  faction,  drew  to  them  in  the  end  the 
sympathies  of  the  nation.  Cond^  and  his  friends 
not  only  fell  through  their  own  vices,  after  inflict- 
ing terrible  calamities  on  the  country,  but  in  their 
fall  incurred  the  inexpiable  guilt  of  dragging  down 
public  freedom  with  them.  They  drowned  liberty 
in  sedition.  The  wisest  and  best  men  of  their 
own  order,  the  patriotic  Magistrates  who  had  con- 
tended so  courageously  against  abuses  of  power, 
the  factious  demagogues  themselves,  dreading  to 


197 


be  torn  to  pieces  by  their  own  bandogs,  saw  no 
refuge  from  the  woes  of  the  realm  except  in  un- 
conditional  submission   to   the   Royal  authority. 
France,  wasted  by  a  civil  war  which  exhausted  the 
fountains  of  her  life,  delivered  up  her  cities  to 
the  dominion  of  the  rabble,  and  enabled  Spain  to 
pluck  from  her  nerveless  grasp  the  trophies  of 
years  of  glory,  painfully  awoke  to  the  conviction 
that  anarchy  is  the  most  insupportable  form  of 
tyranny;    that   even    the    misrule   of    an    irre- 
sponsible   Government    was    preferable    to    the 
organised  disorder  of  selfish  faction.     And  thus 
it   came  to  pass  that,  notwithstanding  that  the 
Fronde  had  marshalled  under  its  banner  all  the 
patriotism,  nearly  all  the  political  and  military 
genius,  and  the  acknowledged  representatives  of 
the  one  power  of  the  world  which  is  more  potent 
than   genius,   feminine  beauty,  in   France;  not- 
withstanding also  the  deep   hatred  of   Cardinal 
Mazarin  and  the  bitter  sense  of  misgovemment 
that  rankled  in  the  heart  of  the  nation,  the  star  of 
the  Great  Minister  again  rose  in  the  ascendant. 

The  proud  spirit  of  Conde  could  not  brook 
obedience,  and  he  quitted  Paris  with  the  remnant 
of  his  troops  on  the  14th  of  October,  1652,  to 
join  the  Spanish  army  on  the  northern  frontier. 
The  Duke  of  Orleans  hesitated  with  characteristic 


198 


indecision  until  the  time  for  either  reconciKation 
or  resistance  had  passed,  and  was  banished  to 
Blois,  where  he  dragged  out  in  obscurity  the 
remainder  of  his  restless  and  unhonoured  career. 
La  Rochefoucault  and  Beaufort  submitted  and 
made  their  peace  with  the  Eegent.  The  seditious 
outrages  fomented  by  the  Prince  of  Conti  and  the 
Duchess  of  Longueville  at  Bordeaux  had  pro- 
duced a  bad  effect  throughout  the  whole  province 
of  Guyenne,  which  the  efforts  of  Lenet  and  the 
Count  of  Marsin,  with  such  feeble  aid  as  the 
Princess  of  Conde,  tottering  on  the  verge  of  the 
grave,  could  render,  were  insufficient  to  counter- 
act. On  the  arrival  of  a  fleet  and  army  com- 
manded by  the  Dukes  of  Vendome  and  Candale, 
all  the  towns  of  the  province  made  overtures  of 
submission.  Conti,  with  the  baseness  of  a  selfish 
and  cowardly  nature,  secretly  betrayed  his  brother, 
and  attached  himself  to  Mazarin,  from  whom  he 
subsequently  accepted  a  niece,  Mdlle.  Martinozzi, 
a  dazzling  beauty  with  marvellous  golden  tresses, 
in  marriage.  This  alliance  of  his  brother,  at 
whose  entreaties  he  had  taken  up  arms,  with  his 
low-bom  enemy  was  the  bitterest  drop  in  Conde's 
cup  of  humiliation.  Cardinal  Mazarin  caused  the 
most  generous  terms  to  be  offered  to  the  Princess 
of  Conde,  the  niece  of  his  great  patron,  if  she 


199 

would  consent  to  remain  quietly  in  France.     But, 
though  not  expected  to  survive  the  voyage,  she 
insisted  on  embarking  with  her  son,  Lenet,  and 
Marsin,  to  join  her  husband  in  Flanders,   where 
her  admirable  devotion  was  repaid  by  the  harshest 
cruelty   and  neglect.     By  a  most  extraordinary 
article   of     the    capitulation   of    Bordeaux,    two 
thousand  five  hundred   of    Marsin's    troops,   all 
Frenchmen,  and  revolted  soldiers  of  the  army  of 
Catalonia,  were  permitted  to  march  with  flying 
colours  across  the  whole  kingdom,  and  provided 
on  the  way,  at  the  Royal  charge,  with  quarters 
and  provisions,  to  join  Conde,  an  attainted  rebel, 
in  the  Spanish  camp.   Madame  de  LongueviUe  re- 
tired for  a  time  to  the  country  seat  of  her  aunt,  the 
Duchess  of  Montmorenci,  a  woman  of  saintly  life, 
whose  exhortations  and  example  wrought  a  mar- 
vellous and  enduring  change  in  the  fallen  Queen 
of    the   Fronde.      Surviving    the   surrender    of 
Bordeaux  for  more  than  twenty  years,  her  fer- 
vent repentance  and  exemplary  conduct  won  the 
admiration   of   all  France,  and  nobly  atoned  for 
the  errors  of  earlier  years. 

A  few  days  after  Conde's  departure,  Louis  XIV. 
entered  Paris  and  held  a  Bed  of  Justice,  in  which 
the  Prince  and  his  partizans  were  again  declared 
traitors,  the  celebrated  Declaration  of  the  24th  of 


V. 


200 


201 


■If' 


October,  1648,  was  annulled,  and  the  Parliament 
submissively  registered  the  Royal  Edict  prohibiting 
the  magistrates  from  ever  again  deliberating  upon 
affairs  of  State.  De  Retz,  the  mighty  demagogue, 
whose  genius  had  so  long  revelled  in  social  confusion 
as  in  its  own  proper  element,  to  whom  the  roar  of 
civil  discord  had  been  rapture,  who  had  ruled 
the  storms  of  faction  with  a  monarch's  sway,  was 
too  dangerous  a  personage  in  the  jealous  eyes  of 
newly  established  authority  to  be  allowed  to 
remain  long  unmolested  in  his  Archbishopric. 
Notwithstanding  the  services  he  had  rendered 
against  Conde,  and  on  which  he  reckoned  to  secure 
for  him  impunity,  he  was,  after  a  short  respite, 
seized  upon  a  charge  of  fomenting  new  disturb- 
ances, flung  into  the  Donjon  of  Yincennes,  and 
thence  transferred  to  the  distant  Castle  of  Nantes. 
From  this  fortress  he  contrived,  in  1654,  to  effect 
his  escape,  and  wandered  many  years  in  poverty 
and  exile.  As  some  comet,  to  the  superstitious 
eye  of  antiquity,  shot  athwart  the  heavens  a 
mysterious  herald  of  wrath,  shaking  calamities 
from  its  flaming  locks,  the  portentous  genius  of 
De  Eetz  had  blazed  in  the  political  firmament  of 
France,  brilliant,  baleful,  and  evanescent. 

His  last  dangerous  foe  removed  from  the  scene. 
Cardinal  Mazarin  returned  in  triumph,  and  resumed 


the  exercise  of  an  unlimited  authority,  which  was 
never  afterwards  disputed.     How   eloquent  as  a 
symbol   of  his   career    was  the  device  he   then 
assumed,  a  rock    lashed  by  raging  billows,  and 
underneath  the  words,  "  Quam  frustra,  et  mur- 
mure    quanto,"       Vain    indeed    had    been    the 
buffetings  of  the  tempest.    The  Royal  Authority, 
so  rudely  assailed,  towered  again  in  such  majestic 
strength,  struck  its  roots  so  deep  and  wide,  bound 
them  in    such  inseparable    union  with  all    the 
chords   of   the   national  life,  that   to   uproot  it 
required  a  convulsion  which  prostrated  Christianity 
itself  in  common  ruin,  and  utterly  swept   away 
institutions,    customs,   habits,  modes  of  thought, 
even  landmarks,  which  had  formed  an  integral 
part  of  the  nation's  growth,  or  had  been  incor- 
porated into  its  existence  for  nearly  a  thousand 
years. 


'j 


I 


E  5 


202 


CHAPTEK    V. 


The  seven  succeeding  years  of  Condi's  life  may 
be  passed  over  briefly.     They  were  spent  in  the 
councils  and  camps  of  Spain,  in  parricidal  efforts 
to  pierce  the  heart  of  his  native  country  with  the 
sword  of  a  foreign  enemy.      In  this  part  of  his 
career  one  can  admire  nothing  except  the  per- 
verted genius    that  appeared    even  more   extra- 
ordinary when  labouring  at  the   Titan   task   of 
supporting   a  decrepid  Monarchy,   than    it    had 
appeared  when  dealing  the  lightning  blows  which 
made  that   Monarchy  totter   to   its   base.      His 
energy  and  military  talent  assumed  proportions 
perfectly  marvellous  in  contrast  with  the  feeble 
though     arrogant     incapacity    of     the    Spanish 
Generals.     The  retreat  from  Arras,  the  forcing 
of  Turenne's  lines  at  Valenciennes,  the  reHef  of 
Cambray,  accomplished  by  him  almost  in  spite  of 
his  allies,  rank  among  the  most  brilliant  achieve- 


203 


ments  of  warfare.     But  his  efforts  were  barren, 
except  of  dubious  glory  to  himself.     Not  even  his 
fiery  spirit  could  infuse  life  into  Spanish  lethargy, 
or  thaw  the  cold  obstruction  of  Spanish  pride. 
The  resources  of  Spain,  although   still  fed  by   a 
perennial  stream   of   treasure   from   the    Indies, 
were  sapped  by  misgovernment.      The   bones  of 
the  veteran  battalions  which  had  shielded  her  de- 
cline, whitened  the  plains  of  Rocroi   and  Lens. 
And  the  haughty  arrogance,  the  natural  growth 
of  irresistible  power,  which  had  descended  to  her 
children   with  the   heritage   of  great  deeds  and 
illustrious   names,   was   not  only  ridiculous   but 
fatal,  flaunting  over  mere  decay.     It  prevented 
the   Monarchy  profiting  by  the  abilities  of  the 
most  successful  Captain  of  the  age,  and  kept  alive 
an   exaggerated  opinion   of   Spain's  strength  in 
other  nations  of  Europe,  where  the  ignorant  and 
the   prejudiced  still  trembled  at  the  bugbear  of 
Spanish  power,  the  mere  phantom  of  what  had 
been  a  living  menace  to  their  forefathers. 

It  was  the  policy  of  Cromwell,  when  he  had  sub- 
verted the  Commonwealth,  to  distract  the  attention 
of  the  English  nation  from  the  unaccustomed  evils 
of  a  military  tryanny,  and  to  find  employment 
for  the  dangerous  spirits  of  the  army  by  foreign 


204 


expeditions ;  and  his  alliance  was  courted  with  tha 
most  eager  solicitude  by  France  and  Spain.     A 
brilliant  modern    school   of    English    historians, 
turning  away  in  the  disgust  of  satiety  from  the 
familiar  spectacle  of  equitable  government   and 
ordered  freedom,  have  borrowed  from  the  darkest 
ages  of  paganism  the  practice  of  glorifying  the 
lawless    passions    of    humanity;     until,   in     the 
apotheosis   of   force,    fraud,  cruelty,  and  selfish- 
ness, we  almost  see  reviving  amongst  us,  in   a 
more  intellectual  form,  heathen  superstition  in  its 
most  debasing  phase — the  worship   of  monsters. 
Enemies  of  the  human  race,  whose  memories  have 
come  down  to  us  black  with   crimes,  and  laden 
with  the  curses  of  mankind,  are — if  they  have 
been    but     successful— exalted    as    demi-gods ; 
while  their  victims,   the   martyrs   of   right   and 
justice,  are  covered  with  calumny  and  insult.     It 
is  only  by  the   demoralising   influence   of    such 
teaching  that  the  modern  idolatry  which  bm^ns 
incense  to  Cromwell  can  be  explained.     His  career 
was   the   triumph   of  brute   force   and   cunning, 
stimulated    by   fanaticism — a    fanaticism    which 
acted  in  complete  subordination  to  his  personal 
ambition,   and   in    complete   harmony   with   the 
habitual  hypocrisy  and  dissimulation,  and  the  un- 


205 


scrupulous   policy  which  concealed   and   accom- 
plished his  designs.     That  he  merits  the  praise  of 
being  affectionate  in  his  domestic  relations  may 
be  freely  admitted,  for,  after  all,  he  was  human  ; 
and   that   he   was   a  very   extraordinary  man  is 
attested   by   his    astonishing    career.       But  his 
ambition  was  sordid  and  ruthless,  and  his  genius 
was  of  the  lowest  order — the  genius  of  destruction. 
His  attempts  at  constructing  proved  egregious, 
and  even  ridiculous,  failures  during  his  own  life- 
time.    The  master-spirits  of  the  world,  to  whom 
he  has  been  sometimes  compared,  redeemed  the 
evils  of  their  rule,  and  perpetuated  their  names 
by  great  and  enduring  structures,  which  command 
the  admiration  or  gratitude  of  posterity.      The 
Koman  Empire,  which  survived  in  all  its  changes 
for  more  than  eighteen  hundred  years,  was  the 
legacy  of  Julius  Caesar.      The   Civil   Code,  the 
marvellous  organisation,  and  some  of   the  most 
magnificent  public  works  of  modern  France,  form 
a  fitting  monument  to  the  genius  of  Napoleon. 
Cromwell  left  behind  him  only  ruins — the  ruins  of 
an  ancient  Monarchy  and  of  a  new  Republic ;  and 
his  name  lives  in  association  with  desolate  fanes 
and  shattered  castles,  and  burning  memories  of 
cruelty  and  wrong.     Nor  since  the  death  of  Attila 


206 


has  Europe  been  afflicted  with  the  scourge  of  a 
destroyer  so  terrible  and  remorseless. 

There  never  was  a  Government  in  England  so 
tyrannical  or  so  hateful  to  the  nation  as  the  Protec- 
torate.   It  was  a  mihtary  despotism,  in  comparison 
with  which  the  tyranny  of  Charles  I.  was  a  mild 
and  humanising  yoke.  The  country  was  portioned 
out  into  eleven  districts,  each  under  the  command 
of  a  major-general,  who,  at  will,  imprisoned  the 
persons  and  confiscated  the  estates  of  individuals, 
obnoxious  on  account  of  their  principles  or  their 
wealth,  under  the  sole  authority  of  the  Lord  Protec- 
tor.    All  but  a  small  minority  of  the  inhabitants 
qualified  to  exercise  the  franchise  were  deprived  of 
political  rights.     Trial  by  jury  in  political  causes 
was  practically  abohshed  by  the  instituting  of  a 
High  Court  of  Justice,  and  the  mandates  of  the 
Council  of  State.     Laws  were  enacted,  enormous 
annual   contributions   were   imposed,   the   entire 
administration  was  absolutely  directed  by  a  small 
knot   of  successful  adventurers,   who   registered 
the  decrees  of  an  irresponsible  master  at  White- 
hall.     Three   kingdoms   were  governed   by  the 
sword,  and  steeped  in  miseries,  not  that   some 
salutary  public   object  might   be   achieved,   but 
because  an  ambitious  soldier  desired  to  erect  for 


207 


himself  the   throne   he  had  overturned,  on  the 
ruins  of  the  Republic  he  had  betrayed. 

Several  times  during  his  rule  Cromwell  sought 
to  veil  his  despotism  under  the  forms  of  a  free 
Government  by  calling  a  Parliament.  But,  not- 
withstanding the  iron  grasp  of  his  Major- Generals 
on  the  skeleton  constituencies,  and  the  forcible 
exclusion  of  all  independent  representatives  from 
the  Palace  of  Westminster  on  the  high  constitu- 
tional grounds  that,  in  the  cant  of  the  Saints, 
they  were  tainted  with  malignancy,  or  delin- 
quency, or  immorality,  he  was  never  able  to  collect 
together  a  body  of  Englishmen  sufficiently  base  to 
become  pUant  tools  of  his  ambition.  Each  Par- 
liament, after  a  short  trial,  was  publicly  reviled  by 
him,  and  then  ignominiously  cashiered  for  imputed 
backslidings  from  virtue.  He  attached  to  himself 
the  fanatical  soldiers  who  upheld  his  usurpation  by 
arts  analogous  to  those  with  which  Mohammed  or 
Mahomet  had  duped  his  Arabian  followers .  Joining 
frequently  in  their  pious  exercises,  his  preachings 
and  his  prayers,  conceived  in  a  turgid  vein  of 
semi-delirious  mysticism — a  grotesque  travesty  of 
the  sublime  imagery  and  the  shadowy  grandeur  of 
the  sacred  writings — and  poured  forth  in  a  simu- 
lated fervour  of  inspiration,  cheated  their  diseased 
fancies  into  the  belief  that  he  was  filled  with  the 


if 


208 

Divine  Spirit,  that  he  was  the  chosen  instrument 
of  the  Most  High  to  establish  the  reign  of  Christ 
upon  earth.     Not  that  his  pretensions  to  super- 
natural  enlightenment   were    altogether    charla- 
tanism.    Like  the  Prophet  of  Islam,  he  was  to 
some  extent  a  genuine  enthusiast ;    but  his  en- 
thusiasm was  deeply  tinctured  with  craft,  and  was 
used   to    sustain    conscious   imposture.      All   his 
artifices,  however,   failed   to   induce  the   devout 
warriors,  who  had  made  and  could  at  any  moment 
unmake  him,  and  who,  even  in  their  most  blas- 
phemous hallucinations,  were  sincere,  to  connive 
at  a  national  sin,  by  sanctioning  his  assumption  of 
the  Crown,  the  prize  which  so  long  dazzled  and 
mocked  his  aspirations.    In  the  end,  his  hypocrisy 
— although  profound  and  continually  fortified  by 
profane   appeals   to   Heaven — became   too   worn 
from   incessant    use  to   mask   even   from   pious 
credulity   the   personal   character    of    his    aims. 
Detested  by  the  whole  nation,  by  the  half  that  he 
had  deceived,  as  well  as  by  the  half  that  he  had 
vanquished ;  destitute  of  the  means  of  paying  the 
army  that  held  it  in  subjection ;  broken  in  mind 
and   body,  by  sickness,   domestic  calamity,   and 
perpetual  terrors  of  assassination,  but  to  the  last 
the  dupe  of  religious  delusion,  the  blaze  of  military 
and  naval  triumph  that  closed  his  domination. 


209 

gilded  miserable  failure.  And  probably  the  3rd 
of  September  deserved  the  title  of  his  fortunate 
day  more  for  rescuing  him  by  a  peaceful  death 
from  a  tragic,  if  not  shameful  fall,  from  an  un- 
tenable position,  than  because  of  his  victories  at 
Worcester  and  Dunbar. 

The  panegyrists  of  Cromwell  rest  his  claims  to 
admiration  as  a  ruler  chiefly  on  the  grandeur  and 
success   of   his    foreign  policy.     The    able    and 
vigorous   statesmen  of  the   Long  Parliament,  by 
the  fleets  and  armies  they  created,  and  the  haughty 
attitude  they  assumed  towards  foreign  States,  had 
raised  the  fame  and  power  of  England  abroad  to 
an  unexampled  height :    and  a  large  share  of  the 
glory  and  advantage   of  their   measures  was  in- 
herited by   the  Protector.     But  his  own  foreign 
policy  was  selfish  blundering.     The  slight  which 
had  been  passed  by  Charles  I.   on  the   Spanish 
Infanta  had  caused   a  permanent   estrangement 
between  the   Courts  of  Madrid  and  St.  James's. 
The  Spanish   Government   had  been  the  first  to 
recognize  the  Commonwealth,  and  had  maintained 
cordial  relations  with  it  to  the  end.     But  Crom- 
well, being  unable  to  obtain  from  a  Parliament  the 
grants  of  money  he  needed,  and  being  afraid  of 
increasing  the  clamours  and  resistance  provoked 
by  the  arbitrary  levying  of  contributions,  looked 


'fl 


210 

with  a  covetous  eye  on  the  rich  colonies  and  the 
treasure   ships   of   Spain.     Also    regarding    the 
exiled   Charles   Stuart  as   a  personal  rival,  the 
claim  which  near  relationship  gave  this  Prince  to 
assistance  from  the   House   of  Bourbon  led  the 
Protector  to  desire  a  French  alliance  for  his  own 
security.     In  contempt  of  existing  treaties,  which 
not  only  good  faith,  but  gratitude  and  the  interests 
of  England  should  have  guarded  from  violation 
he  despatched  an  expedition  to  attack  the  West 
India  possessions  and  plunder  the  commerce  of 
Spam.     The  enterprise  failed   disgracefully.     It 
called  forth  loud  and  almost  unanimous  disapproval 
at   home,   more  particularly  from    the    English 
merchants.      Philip   ly.,   although   reluctant  to 
enter  upon  a  new  conflict,  to  which  his  exhausted 
monarchy   was   unequal,  protested  with   dignity 
against  the  Protector^s  perfidy  and  withdrew  his 
Ambassador. 

While  affairs  were  in  this  state,  fabulous  nar- 
ratives, which  took  shape  for  the  greater  part 
in  the  heated  brains  of  Calvinist  Ministers  at 
Geneva,  of  horrible  cruelties  practised  by  the 
Duke  of  Savoy  upon  the  Vaudois,  threw  England 
into  a  ferment.  The  Vaudois,  a  Protestant  people 
in  the  valleys  of  Piedmont,  who  enjoyed  the 
free  exercise  of   their  religion  under  a  CathoKc 


211 


Sovereign,  having  risen  in  rebellion  without  just 
cause,  were  defeated  in  a  struggle  disgraced  by 
barbarities  on  both    sides,   and    expelled    from 
their  territory.     At  a  time  when  a  "  Popish  Mas- 
sacre" was  the  term  applied  to  the  legitimate 
attempt  of  Catholics  to  vindicate  their  civil  and 
religious  rights  by  arms,  stories  of  unprovoked 
outrage  upon  their  foreign  brethren  were  sure  to 
meet  with  greedy  acceptance  among  the  Puritans. 
The  small  dominant  sect  of  enthusiasts  who  had 
endeavoured  to  exterminate  the  Irish  Catholics, 
and  who  proscribed  the  worship  of  the  majority 
of  English  Protestants,  were  especially  vehement 
in  indignant  denunciation   of  an  imaginary  re- 
ligious persecution.    Cromwell  joyfully  seized  the 
opportunity  of  appearing  before  Europe  in  the 
august  character  of    champion  of  the   reformed 
faith.      The    Vaudois,   though    reported    to   be 
perishing    from    cold  and    hunger    amidst    the 
snows  of    the   Alps,  unhesitatingly   declined  his 
offer    of  a  settlement   on   confiscated    lands    in 
Ireland.     But  he  sent   Morland,  as   ambassador, 
to  Turin,  to  mediate  in  their  favour,  and  he  de- 
manded the  co-operation  of  the  King  of  France^ 
Cardinal  Mazarin,  however,  foreseeing  that  the  dis- 
turbances in  Piedmont  would  obstruct  the  treaty 
of  alliance  with  England,  which  he  ardently  de- 


212 


sired,  had  lost  no  time  in  exercising  the  pressure 
of  a  powerful  neighbour  and  ally  upon  the  Duke 
of  Savoy.  Morland,  on  arriving  at  Geneva,  found 
reason  to  distrust  the  statements  of  the  Swiss 
Protestants,  and  his  mediation  was  civilly  declined 
by  the  Court  of  Turin.  But  Mazarin  was  able  to 
inform  the  Protector  that  an  amnesty  had  been 
granted  to  the  insurgents  through  the  friendly 
offices  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  that  peace  and  good 
fellowship  again  reigned  in  the  Alpine  valleys. 

This  happy  termination  of  the  quarrel  greatly 
raised  the  reputation  of  Cromwell,  as  it  was 
evidently  soHcitude  for  his  friendship  that  had 
dictated  the  intervention  of  the  French  Govern- 
ment; and  it  gained  for  France  a  potent  ally 
against  the  Spaniards.  Six  thousand  English 
troops  were  sent  to  join  the  army  of  Marshal 
Turenne.  The  Governor  of  the  Spanish  Nether- 
lands at  that  time  was  Don  John  of  Austria,  son 
of  Philip  ly.  and  a  Madrid  actress,  a  young  man 
full  of  presumption,  and  guided  by  an  incapable 
Mentor,  the  Marquis  of  Caracena.  The  combined 
forces  of  France  and  England  laid  siege  to  Dun- 
kirk, which  was  only  defended  by  a  garrison  of 
one  thousand  men,  destitute  of  supplies.  Don 
John  advanced  hastily  from  Brussels  with  about 
fourteen  thousand  men,  to  relieve  the  place,  leav- 


213 


ing   all  his  artillery  behind.      Turenne,  issuing 
from  his  lines,  found  the  Spaniards  in  a  position , 
in  which   their  cavalry,  nearly  one-half  of  their 
entire  strength,  was  practically  useless,  while  their 
right   wing  rested  on  an  open  roadstead ;  and  a 
great  battle,  known  as  the  Battle  of  the  Downs, 
was  fought.     Through  the  errors  of  the  Spanish 
Generals,  the  military  skill  of  Turenne,  the  valour 
of  the  English   regiments,   and   the    opportune 
arrival   of  some   English  frigates,  which,  in  the 
heat  of  the  conflict,  opened  fire   on  the  exposed 
flank  of  the  Spaniards,  the  Allies  won  a  complete 
victory.    Conde^s  advice  had  been  contemptuously 
rejected  in  the  Spanish  Council  of  War,  his  pro- 
phetic warnings  had  been  received  with  scornful 
incredulity.     It  was  only  his  brilliant  charges  at 
the  head  of  the  small  body  of   French  Cavalry 
which  followed  his  fortunes,  that  for  a  time  kept 
the  day  doubtful,  and  saved  the  beaten  army  from 
annihilation.     "My  cousin,^^  the  King  of  Spain 
wrote  to   him,  with  courteous  exaggeration,  "  I 
hear  that  everything  was  lost  and  that  you  re- 
trieved everything.^' 

The  fruits  to  France  of  the  victory  of  the 
Downs  were  the  advantageous  peace  of  the 
Pyrenees,  which  prepared  the  way  for  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  House  of  Bourbon  on  the  Spanish 


214 

tlirone;  and  her  military   preponderance    under 
Louis  XIV.     The  fruits  to  England  were  the  costly 
acquisition  of  Dunkirk,  afterwards  sold  by  Charles 
II. ;  and  the  expenditure  of  oceans  of  blood  and 
millions  of  treasure  in  a  long  series  of  efforts  to 
destroy   that  military  preponderance  which  was 
partly  her  own   work;  efforts,   marked   by   the 
signal    defeats     of    Steinkirk    and    Landen,    of 
Almanza   and  Villa  Viciosa,  as  well  as   by  the 
splendid  triumphs  of  Blenheim,   Ramilhes,  and 
Oudenarde,  and  of  which  her  national  debt   is  a 
perpetual  memorial.      CromwelPs   short-sighted 
foreign  policy  did  not  even  promote   the  selfish 
ends  he  had  proposed  to  himseK.     His  dynastic 
schemes   perished   with    him.      His   armaments 
drained  his  treasury  and  loaded  him  with  debts  ; 
and  the  London  merchants  were   so  irritated  by 
the  losses  occasioned  to  their  trade  by  the  rupture 
with  Spain,  that  they  refused  to  relieve  the  des- 
perate financial  dijficulties   which  clouded   with 
anxiety  the  last  months  of  his  life. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  if  Spanish  presump- 
tion and  immobihty  had  cramped  Condi's  opera- 
tions in  war,  Spanish  honour  and  fidelity  nobly 
guarded  his  interests  in  the  negotiations  for  peace. 
His  restoration  to  all  his  estates,  dignities,  and 
employments,  was  strenuously  insisted  on  by  Don 


215 

Louis  de  Haro,  the  Prime  Minister  of  Spain,  and 
as  obstinately  resisted  by  Cardinal  Mazarin  in 
their  long  conferences  on  the  Island  of  Pheasants, 
in  the  Bidassoa.  The  Prince  generously  offered 
to  forego  his  claims  in  order  to  promote  the 
pacification  of  Europe.  But  Don  Louis  refused 
to  purchase  a  treaty  on  which  the  very  existence 
of  his  exhausted  country  seemed  to  depend,  by 
the  sacrifice  of  a  brave  ally.  He  threatened  that 
his  master  would  endow  the  French  Prince  with 
an  independent  territory  on  the  borders  of  France. 
To  avoid  this  danger,  and  in  consideration  of  the 
cession  of  Avesnes  and  its  dependencies,  Mazarin 
consented  to  reinstate  Conde  and  his  followers, 
with  the  exception  of  the  Count  of  Marsin,  in  the 
advantageous  positions  they  had  forfeited  by 
rebeUion. 


216 


CHAPTER  VI. 


On  Lis  return  to  France  at  the  end  of  the  year 
1659  Conde,  after  a  brief  visit  to  the  Courts  with- 
drew to  Chantilly,  where  he  passed  in  almost 
complete  retirement  the  greater  part  of  the  eight 
following  years.  The  jealous  ascendency  of 
Cardinal  Mazarin^  and  after  that  Minister's  death, 
in  the  year  1661,  the  lingering  distrust  of  the 
young  King,  condemned  the  Prince  to  a  state  of 
inaction,  which  became  torture  to  his  fiery  spirit, 
when  the  kingdom  again  resounded  with  joyous 
peals  for  the  triumphs  of  its  arms  in  Flanders. 
But  he  bore  his  lot  without  a  murmur.  Adversity 
had  made  him  wise.  He  had  too  long  tasted  exile 
and  dependence,  the  bitter  fruits  of  faction,  to 
dream  of  cultivating  that  ungrateful  soil  again. 
Even  had  he  wished  to  do  so,  it  was  no  longer 
possible.  The  times  of  political  confusion  were 
gone  by.     France  was  no  longer  the  France  of 


217 


his  turbulent  youth.  She  had  passed  from  the 
throes  of  a  great  change  into  another  phase  of 
her  life ;  a  development  excelling  in  grandeur  and 
symmetry,  but  not  vivified  by  the  breath,  nor  en- 
nobled by  the  dignity  of  freedom.  Long  before 
Louis,  won  by  Conde's  great  qualities,  and 
evident  anxiety  to  atone  for  the  past,  called  hiTn 
forth  again  into  active  employment,  the  slow 
revolution  which  had  been  initiated  by  Louis  XI., 
and  had  received  such  a  mighty  impulse  from 
Richelieu,  was  consummated.  The  Fronde  had 
flooded  the  land  with  a  deluge  of  faction,  and 
when  the  troubledwaterssubsided,  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  nobles,  the  political  privileges  of  the  Par- 
liaments, provincial  and  municipal  liberties,  the 
wrecks  that  had  remained  of  the  venerable  system 
of  mediaeval  polity,  all  but  the  mere  framework 
of  feudal  society,  had  disappeared  for  ever,  absorbed 
in  the  growth  of  the  most  brilliant,  despotic,  and 
powerfully  organized  monarchy  that  had  as  yet 
been  seen  in  modem  Europe. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  history  presents  to 
us  many  subjects  of  deeper  interest,  whether  it 
be  viewed  in  relation  to  its  own  greatness  and 
splendour,  which  marked  an  epoch  in  civilization, 
or  in  relation  to  its  permanent  effects  upon  the 
political  and  social  condition  of  France,  than  the 

VOL.   II.  L 


218 


old  Frencli  Monarcliy,  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIY . 
During  the  first  twenty  years  of  Louis'  personal 
rule  that  Monarchy  reached  its  culminating  point. 
In  its  magnificence  and  its  vigour,  bright  with 
all  glory  and  with  every  charm,  it  was  at  once  the 
marvel  and  the  terror  of  the  age.  Power  almost 
colossal,  profound  policy,  the  triumphs  of  war  and 
of  peace,  the  solemn  pomp  of  religion,  the  inspira- 
tion of  poetry  and  art,  the  sublime  conquests  of 
science,  the  flashing  beams  of  wit,  the  lofty 
graces  of  chivalrous  nobihty,  the  bewitching 
graces  of  lovely,  refined,  and  intellectual  women, 
invested  it  with  a  grandeur  and  a  beauty  wliich 
still  dazzle  through  the  deepening  twilight  of  two 
hundred  years.  The  position  of  Louis  XIY.  was 
the  most  intoxicating  that  the  imagination  can 
well  conceive.  Of  France,  which,  welded  into  in- 
dissoluble union  by  the  deep  State-craft  of 
Richelieu  and  Mazarin,  fostered  and  developed 
during  years  of  peace  by  the  wisdom  of  Colbert, 
elated  with  recent  military  successes,  and  filled 
with  a  warlike  population,  organised  by  Louvois, 
and  led  by  Turenne,  had  attained  a  state  of  com- 
pact strength,  prosperity,  and  martial  ardour  that 
menaced  the  independence  of  Europe,  he  was 
absolute  master.  No  man — no  body  of  men — in 
the  kingdom  ventured  to  dispute  his  will.     Im- 


219 

plicit  submission  had  come  to  be  regarded  in 
Prance  as  the  highest  political  virtue.  His  Court 
was  the  most  brilHant  and  polished  that  modem 
Europe  has  seen.  It  was  a  great  focus  of  the 
human  intellect,  of  the  attributes  and  the  arts  that 
glorify  and  embellish  life.  No  other  age,  perhaps, 
has  seen,  revolving  around  one  centre,  so  splendid 
and  various  a  system  of  genius  as  that  which  en- 
circled with  undying  lustre  the  throne  of  the 
Great  Eang.  Colbert  and  Louvois,  Cond^  and 
Turenne,  Racine  and  Moliere,  Pascal  and  Sevigne, 
Descartes  and  Buffon,  Mansard  and  Perrault, 
Bossuet  and  Bourdalou  shed  on  his  royalty  the 
light  of  the  mind  in  rich  prismatic  rays,  adorned 
it  with  the  noblest  trophies.  At  Versailles  or  at 
Fontainebleau,  he  breathed  an  atmosphere  of 
flattery  almost  idolatrous;  the  flattery  of  men 
whose  praise  was  immortality,  the  flattery  of 
women,  which  meant  all  that  youth,  beauty,  and 
the  sparkling  graces  of  refined  intellect  could 
proffer  to  passion.  A  consummate  statesman, 
unlocking  throughout  his  kingdom  new  springs 
of  industry  and  enterprise,  flooded  it  with  a 
golden  tide  of  prosperity.  Consummate  warriors 
made  his  arms  the  terror  of  Europe.  To  his 
toiling  energies,  peace  and  war  alike  presented  the 
enchanted  cup   of    glory.      To    his    voluptuous 

L   2 


220 


leisure  ministered  the  arts  of  a  refined  luxury, 
not  less  seductive  than  the  gorgeous  dreams  of 
young  ambition,  and  beauty  more  eloquent  than 
the  almost  inspired  eloquence  of  Massillon. 

The   dictatorial    spirit    that   belonged  to    his 
Government  at  home,  Louis  carried  into  his  rela- 
tions  with   foreign    States    less    powerful    than 
France.     England,  bound  hand  and  foot  by  his 
policy,  connived  at,  or  openly  aided  his  aggres- 
sions.    Not  only  Charles  II.,  ever  spendthrift  and 
needy,  and  Charles's  Ministers,  but  the  chiefs  of 
the    English    opposition — the    patriots,   as  they 
styled  themselves — were    his    pensioners.      The 
bribes  eagerly  clutched  by  members  of  the  Cabal 
were  not  disdained  by  the  austere  virtue  of  Alger- 
non Sydney.     The  States -General  of  the  United 
Netherlands,  having  given  mortal  offence  to  the 
French  Monarch  by  a  Republican  independence 
of   bearing,  which   to  him  seemed  insolent  pre- 
sumption,  the   Dutch   Commonwealth   contested 
the  dominion  of  the  seas  in  a  memorable  struggle 
against  the  combined  navies  of  France  and  Eng- 
land, while  French  armies  overran  its  provinces, 
and  brought  it  to  the  brink  of  ruin. 

Spain,  though  shorn  of  her  former  power 
and  prestige,  still  clung  to  her  lofty  pretensions 
with  a  desperate  tenacity.     Her  ambassadors  still 


221 

claimed  precedence  over  those  of  the  other  lead- 
in  o-  powers.     Louis,  however,  far  from  acknow- 
ledging  a  superior,  would  not  brook  an  equal. 
The  consequence  was  that  the  rivalry  between 
the  Count  D'Estrades,  his  representative  at  the 
English  Court,  and  the  Spanish  representative, 
Yatteville,  caused  a  dangerous  tumult  in  London, 
in  which  the  horses  under  D'Estrades'  coach  were 
killed,  and  his  son  and  several  attendants  were 
wounded.    This  insult  deeply  incensed  the  French 
King.     He  sent  passports  to  the  Spanish  Ambas- 
sador in  Paris ;  and  his  menaces  were  enforced  by 
such  formidable  military  preparations  that  Spain 
shrank   from  the   conflict.     Philip   IV.   made   a 
formal  apology,  and   issued  new  instructions  to 
his  ambassadors,  which  practically  acknowledged 
the  pre-eminence  of  the  French  Crown. 

Still  more  signal  was  the  humiliation  of  the 
Pope.  The  Duke  of  Crequi,  French  Minister  at 
Rome,  having  quarrelled  with  the  brother  of  His 
Holiness,  the  insolence  of  Crequi's  domestics 
provoked  a  collision  with  the  Corsican  Guards,  in 
which  some  Frenchmen  were  killed.  The  Pontiff 
at  once  commai^ded  ample  reparation  to  be  made, 
more  even  than  strict  justice  seemed  to  require. 
Some  of  the  soldiers  concerned  in  the  riot  were 
hanged,   and  the   Governor  of   Rome   was  dis- 


222 


missed  for  negligence.  But  Louis  rejected  this 
atonement  with  scorn.  *  In  order  to  avert  the- 
swift  vengeance  of  the  eldest  son  of  the  Church, 
the  Pope  had  to  disband  his  guards,  to  exile  his 
brother,  to  send  his  nephew,  Cardinal  Chigi,  to  ask 
forgiveness  at  Paris,  and  to  erect,  within  view  of 
the  Vatican,  a  monument  recording  the  abase- 
ment of  the  Vice-Gerent  of  Heaven  before  tha 
arrogant  majesty  of  the  most  Christian  King. 

It  was,  however,  into  the  haughty  spirit  of  the 
ancient  EepubHc  of  Genoa  that  the  iron  of  Louis' 
arbitrary  domination  entered  deepest.  Genoa  was 
no  longer  the  powerful  State  whose  merchant- 
men, freighted  with  the  products  of  the  East, 
covered  the  Mediterranean,  whose  martial  prowess 
had  alternately  shaken  and  sustained  the  Greek 
Empire,  and  been  a  bulwark  of  Christendom 
against  the  Moslem  power.  The  discovery  of  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  by  diverting  Eastern  com- 
merce into  a  new  channel,  had  cut  off  the  sprinrrs 
of  Genoa's  greatness.  But  still,  guarded  by  the 
waves  that  had  fed  her  prosperity  and  borne  the 
tributes  of  every  clime  to  her  feet,  the  Queen  of 
the  Mediterranean  preserved  the  freedom  and  the 
generous  spirit  of  more  fortunate  days.  An 
honourable  alliance  had  existed  since  the  days  of 
Andrew  Doria  between  Genoa  and  Spain;   and 


223 

when  the  aggressions  of   Louis  provoked  fresh 
hostilities  between  Spain  and  France,  after  the 
peace  of  Nimeguen,  the  Genoese  equipped  a  fleet 
to  support  their  old  ally.     The  French  Monarch, 
amazed  at  the  audacity  of  a  petty  State  in  thus 
braving  his  power,  sent  the  Genoese  orders,  in  the 
imperious  tone  of  a  master,  to  disarm.     The  proud 
Republicans   answered  by   a  defiance.      With  a 
promptitude  unexampled  in  that  age,  an  irresis- 
tible naval  force,  under  the  command  of  the  cele- 
brated Duquesne,  appeared  before  Genoa.     Thir- 
teen thousand  bombs  flung  into  the  beautiful  city 
reduced  it  to  ruin  and  submission.     By  a  funda- 
mental law  of  the  Republic,  the  Doge  could  not 
leave  its  territory  without  forfeiting  his  dignity. 
But  even  this  antique  constitution,  linked  to  so 
many  glorious  memories,  had  to  do  homage  to  the 
pride  of   Louis.     The  chief   magistrate  Lescari, 
attended  by  four  of  the  principal  citizens,  appeared 
as  a  suppliant  for  pardon  in  the  presence-chamber 
of  Versailles.     When,  afterwards,  all  the  marvels 
of  that  prodigy  of   wasteful  folly,  where  amidst 
scenes  created  at  a  fabulous  cost  to  perpetuate 
the  glories  of  the  monarchy,  ambassadors  from 
the  most   remote    regions   of    Africa    and    Asia 
mingled  in   the  crowd  of  European  celebrities, 
were  pointed  out  to  the   Dodge  with  compla- 


\v 


224 

cent  vanity,  and  lie  was  asked  what  of  all 
lie  saw  most  excited  liis  astonishment,  "  The 
most  astonishing  thing  to  me,"  he  answered,  '^ia 
to  see  myself  here.''  On  his  return  to  Genoa,  the 
Senate,  suspending  the  operation  of  the  laws  in 
compliance  with  the  hard  conditions  imposed  upon 
them,  retained  Lescari  in  an  office  which  thus 
became  the  badge  of  his  own  dishonour  and  the 
servitude  of  his  country. 

Although  the  political  position  of  France  in  the 
reign  of  Louis  XIY.  was  so  commanding,  tha 
ascendency  she  acquired  at  the  same  period  in 
the  domain  of  thought  was  not  only  loftier  and 
more  legitimate,  but  was  far  more  extensive  and 
permanent.  The  graceful  labours  of  French 
genius  in  every  department  of  literature,  science, 
and  art,  and  the  extraordinary  capabiHties  of  the 
French  mind  and  the  French  language  for 
appropriating  and  diffusing  ideas,  gave  her  the 
foremost  place  among  civilized  nations.  Paris 
became  the  centre  of  modern  civilization— the 
capital  of  Europe.  In  all  that  related  to  letters, 
to  taste,  to  manners,  the  French  canons  were 
the  laws  of  the  Continent.  The  French  tongue 
was  the  language  of  literature,  of  diplomacy, 
and  of  polished  Kfe.  The  tragedies  of  Racine, 
the  comedies  of  Moliere,  the  Provincial  Letters, 


225 


were  soon  as  familiar  to  the  polite  circles  of 
Berlin  or  Vienna  as  to  those  of  Paris.  And  long 
after  Louis'  reign  had  closed  in  gloom,  and  all 
but  the  memory  of  its  glory  had  passed  away ; 
when  a  Pompadour  ruled  the  councils  and  a 
Soubise  led  the  armies  of  France,  and  her  power 
had  become  a  scoff,  the  unquestioned  supremacy 
of  French  genius  avenged  the  humiliation  of 
French  arms,  and  the  mighty  spell  which  its 
magic  flung  upon  Europe,  binding  victorious  foes 
in  intellectual   bondage,  was  more  potent  than 

ever. 

The  transition  which  carried  France  from  the 
weakness  and  disunion  of  the  period  of  the  Fronde 
to  the  predominance   she  assumed  fifteen   years 
later,  seems,   at   the   first   view,  one  of  the  most 
rapid  and  startling  in  history.     But  the  splendid 
despotism  of  Louis  XIV.  was  merely  the  natural 
result  of  general   causes  which  had  long  been  in 
operation;    though    doubtless    that    result  was 
stamped  with  a  peculiar  character,  by   the  action 
of  individual  minds.     The  ancient  feudal  power 
of  the  nobility  had  been  undermined  in  the  pro- 
gress of  society,  laid  in  ruins  by  the  blows  of 
Richelieu,  swept  away   in  the  unsuccessful  revolt 
of  the  Fronde.     The  Tiers  Etat  vanquished  in  the 
noble  struggle  which   the  Parliament  of    Paris 

L  5 


226 

maintained  for  their  protection ;  moreover,  sick  of 
civil  wars,  in  which  turbulent  princes  and  noblea 
used  the  popular  grievances  as  masks  for  their 
own  selfish  schemes,  desired  only  repose  under  a 
strong  Government.  The  consequence  was  that 
the  royal  authority  grew  into  a  "  despotism 
tempered  by  epigrams/' 

Mazarin,  thoroughly  understanding  the   crisis,, 
assisted  its  development  with  rare  and  unscrupu- 
lous skill.     On  his  return  to  France,  after  Conde 
was  expelled,  the  Cardinal  once  more  grasped  the 
entire  direction  of  the  State.     The  King,  although 
legally    of   age,  was  still  a  boy.      The   Queen- 
mother  continued  to  the  end  completely  devoted 
to  her  favourite.     All  opposition  to  his  rule  within 
the  kingdom  was  crushed  out,  and,  during  an  abso- 
lute administration  that  terminated  only  with  his 
life,  he  employed   all   the  resources  of  his  deep 
policy  to    refine,   to   humanize,  and  to    corrupt 
society.     He  founded  the  opera  at  Paris,  collected 
an  unrivalled  library,  and  was  a  judicious  patron  of 
learning,  and  of  all  the  fine  arts.     By  his  example 
and  influence  he  promoted    sumptuous    habits, 
gorgeous  pageants,  and  all  luxurious  and  elegant 
amusements.     To  supply  a  safe  channel  for  the 
feverish  energies  of  the  nobles,  no  longer  per- 
mitted to  expend  themselves  in  political  struggles^ 


227 

he  encouraged   gambling,  and  even  cheating  at 
cards,   provided  it  was  clever.     The  passion  for 
high  play  seized   upon   all,  with  its  usual  terrible 
fascination,  and   the  vicissitudes  of  the  gaming- 
table  opened  a  wide   door  for  corruption.     The 
needy  noble  who  had    staked  and  lost   his  last 
crown-piece  or  his  patrimonial  chateau  at  hazard, 
or  the  ruined  magistrate,   was  but  too  happy 
to  find  a  resource  in  the  bounty  of  the  Minister. 
It  was  difficult  to  recognise,  in  the  courtly  flatterers 
who  crowded  Mazarin's  ante-chambers,  the  furious 
patriots  of  other  days,  whose  zeal  had  never  wearied 
in  reviling  him  as  a  public  enemy.     A  spirit  of 
luxury,  of  ostentation,  of  venality,  seen  in  its  best 
and  worst  aspects  in  the  career  of  the  gelierous 
and  ill-fated   Fouquet,  soon  began  to  infect  the 
whole  kingdom  ;   softening  down  the   ferocious 
habits  contracted  during  a  troiibled  period,  but 
gradually  destroying  the  lofty  spirit  of  indepen- 
dence, which,  in  nobles  and  magistrates,  had  been 
the  nurse  of  masculine  virtues. 

But  perhaps  the  individual  whose  personal 
influence  contributed  most  powerfully  to  pro- 
duce such  a  marvellous  change  in  the  condition 
of  France  was  the  young  King  himself.  If  there 
had  been  few  Princes  who  during  their  life-time 
so  habitually  breathed  an  atmosphere  of  flattery 


228 

as  Louis  the  Great,  there  are  few  whose  memories 
have  been  exposed  to  harsher  criticism  or  more 
unjust  depreciation.     In  the  natural  reaction  of 
opinion  the  writers   of    Modern  France  seek  to 
degrade  from  his  pedestal  one  whom  they  detest  as 
the  impersonation  of  that  arbitrary  system,  the 
abuses  of  which  plunged  their  country  into  the 
catastrophe  of  1793.     Brilliant   English   writers 
of  the  Whig  school  have  as  eagerly  disparaged 
the  magnificent  potentate  whose  greatness  dwarfed 
the  greatness  of  their  idol,  William  of  Orange. 
Both  deal  unfairly  with  the  character  of  a  very 
extraordinary  man. 

^  The  reign  of  Louis,  which  began  almost  with 
his  life,  was,  as  has  been  shown,  cradled  in  civil 
dissensions.     While  the  Princes  of  the  Blood  and 
the  great  nobles  desolated  his  kingdom  in  order 
to  despoil  his  crown,  the  unscrupulous  greed  of 
the  Minister,  whose  puppet  he  was,  left  him  some- 
times in  want  of  the  necessaries  of  life.    Mazarin's 
lust  of  power  inflicted  on  his   young   sovereign 
injuries  far  worse  than  the  poverty  occasioned  by 
his  avarice.      Louis  was  taught  to  ride,  to  dance, 
to  take  part  in  pageants,  to  excel  in  manly  sports 
and    graceful    accomplishments.       But    in    the 
scheme  of  the  young  King^s  education,  which  the 
Cardinal  jealously  superintended,  history,  pohtics. 


229 


every  study  that  tended  to  develope  his  mind, 
awaken  his  ambition,  or  teach  him  to  govern,  was 
carefully  interdicted.  Nor  was  this  all.  There  are 
strong  grounds  for  at  least  grave  suspicion,  there 
is  the  direct  testimony  on  the  point  of  the  faithful 
La  Porte,  that  the  Cardinal  resorted  to  means 
of  weakening  the  intellect  of  his  sovereign 
more  odious  than  the  exclusion  of  invigora- 
ting knowledge,  or  the  influence  of  trivial  pur- 
suits. But  the  natural  abilities  of  Louis  were 
of  the  first  order ;  and  he  had  inherited  from  his 
mother  a  strength  of  character  even  greater  than 
his  abilities.  Mazarin,  towards  the  close  of  his 
career,  when  he  felt  himself  withering  in  the  icy 
clasp  of  the  only  enemy  whom  his  wiles  could  not 
foil,  laboured  earnestly  to  repair  the  injury  which 
his  guilty  ambition  had  caused.  He  then  dis- 
covered, to  use  his  own  words,  that  Louis  had  in 
him  the  materials  of  ''  four  good  Kings  and  one 
honest  man."  He  strove  unremittingly  by  his 
counsels,  by  opening  to  his  royal  pupil  the  stores  of 
his  vast  experience,  the  hived- up  State-craft  of 
an  unrivalled  politician,  to  teach  Louis  the  science 
of  governing  despotically.  Still  Mazarin  never 
relaxed  his  hold  of  the  reins  of  power  for  a 
moment.  To  the  last  hour  of  his  life,  he  monopo- 
lised the  administration.     Louis  did  not  venture 


280 


to  grant  the  slightest  favour  without  asking  his 
Minister's  permission.  The  Cardinal,  remaining 
seated  and  covered,  received  his  sovereign  every 
morning  in  his  cabinet,  and  chid  Louis,  after  he 
had  attained  man's  estate  and  had  married,  with 
as  much  freedom  as  though  he  were  still  a  child. 
The  young  King,  fettered  by  long  habit,  and  still 
more  by  gratitude  for  the  immense  services 
Mazarin  had  rendered  the  French  Crown,  stu- 
diously concealed  the  burning  impatience  to 
rule  that  consumed  him.  Engrossed  apparently 
by  the  pleasures  that  crown  youth  and  greatness 
as  with  a  magic  garland,  he  expected  in  silence 
the  death  of  his  great  Minister. 

Mazarin  died  in  the  year  1661,  at  the  age  of 
fifty-nine,  the  richest  subject  in  Europe.  Although 
he  had  permitted  the  public  revetraes  to  be  mis- 
managed, and  dissipated  in  luxury  and  corruption 
by  the  Controller  General  Fouquet,  he  confided 
the  care  of  his  own  fortune  to  a  young  and 
obscure  man,  in  whom  his  penetration  had  dis- 
covered extraordinary  genius  for  finance.  At  the 
close  of  his  hfe  he  presented  this  able  servant  to 
Louis,  saying,  "  Sir,  I  owe  your  Majesty  every- 
thing, but  I  believe  I  can  repay  you  by  giving 
you  Monsieur  Colbert.''  In  order  to  screen  his  vast 
riches  from  inquiry  after  his  death,  and  perhaps  to 


231 


appease  the  cries  of  his  conscience,  the  Cardinal 
when  he  saw  his  end  approaching,  conveyed  all  his 
possessions  by  deed  to  the  King.     Louis  retained 
them  for  a  day,  and  then  gave  them  back  to  the 
dying  Minister  as  a  free  gift.     The  amiable  side 
of  Mazarin's   character    was    in    nothing    more 
visible  than  in  the  strength  of  his  family  affections. 
He  had  charged  himself   after  he  became  Prime 
Minister  with  the  education  and  fortunes  of  his 
six  charming  and  accomplished  nieces,  the  eldest 
three  of   whom  had  been  favourite   targets   for 
the  wit  and   scurrility  of  the  Fronde,  and  all  of 
whom  afterwards  played  distinguished  parts  on 
the   stage   of  life.     By  the  marriages   of  Laura 
Mancini  and   her  beautiful  cousin,  the   Countess 
Martinozzi,  with  the  Duke  of  Mercoeur  and  the 
Prince  of  Conti,  he  had   allied   his  obscure  race 
with  the  House  of  Bourbon.     Olympia  Mancini, 
the   object   of  the  boyish  passion  of   the  young 
King,   married   the   Count   of  Soissons,    son    of 
Prince  Thomas  of  Savoy,  became  mother  of  the 
famous   Prince   Eugene,   and,  later  on,  inspired 
horror  and  fear  in  every  Court  of  Europe  by  her 
crimes.     Between  Louis  and  Marie  Mancini,  the 
next  sister,  there  sprang  up  a  mutual  attachment 
of    the  most   ardent  kind.     It   required  all  the 
authority  and  influence  of  Anne  of  Austria  to 


232 

prevail  on  the  King  to  conquer  his  inclination  to 
make  the  fair  Italian  Queen  of  France.  The 
Cardinal  removed  her  from  Court,  and  gave  her 
in  marriage  to  the  Constable  Colonna,  the  chief 
of  the  family  that  had  fostered  his  own  early- 
fortunes.  The  hand  of  Hortense,  the  most 
beautiful  of  the  sisters  Mancini,  was  sought  in 
vain  by  Charles  II.  of  England,  during  his  exile, 
and  rejected  by  him  after  the  Restoration.  The 
Cardinal  then  selected  the  son  of  his  old  friend. 
Marshal  la  Meillerai,  for  her  husband,  and  made 
them  the  inheritors  of  his  name,  his  honours,  and 
the  bulk  of  his  enormous  wealth.  Hortense  was 
the  celebrated  Duchess  of  Mazarin. 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  notice  the  strange 
mystery  of  the  Man  of  the  Iron  Mask,  in  con- 
nexion with  the  Cardinal's  death.  Immediately 
after  this  event  the  unfortunate  prisoner,  whose 
story  has  so  excited  and  baffled  curiosity,  was 
committed  to  close  confinement  in  the  Castle  of 
Pignerol.  He  was  afterwards  transferred  to  the 
Bastille,  and,  although  treated  with  even  deferen- 
tial respect,  his  features  were  jealously  shrouded 
from  the  eyes  of  his  jailors  by  a  vizor  of  black 
velvet,  until  the  grave  swallowed  up  his  secret  in 
the  year  1703.  The  theory  respecting  him  which 
has  the  greatest  show  of  probabihty  is  that  which 


233 

makes    him    the  son  of   Anne    of  Austria    and 
Cardinal  Mazarin.     It  has  been   confidently  as- 
serted, indeed,  that  the  Queen  was  secretly  wedded 
to  her  favourite   during  the  Regency.     But  the 
Cardinal,   although  not   a  priest,  had  been  ad- 
mitted to   ecclesiastical   orders,  which  precluded 
marriage;  and  neither  his  antecedents  nor  thosa 
of  his  mistress  placed  them  above  the  suspicion 
of  an  irregular  attachment.     The  pride  and  the 
affections  of  Louis  were  alike  interested  to  shield 
the  reputation  of  his  mother ;  and  the  maxims  of 
his  Government   would  oppose  no  impediment  to 
the  perpetual   seclusion  of  her   unfortunate   off- 
spring. 

When  the  death  of  his  Minister  was  announced 
to  him,  the  young  Monarch,  released  from  a  cease- 
less struggle  between  his  sense  of  intolerable 
restraint,  and  his  repugnance  to  displace  one  to 
whom  the  French  Crown  owed  so  much,  exclaimed, 
"  I  do  not  know  what  I  should  have  done,  had  he 
lived  any  longer."  The  Court  became  rife  with 
intrigues  for  the  vacant  post  of  Prime  Minister. 
It  seemed  to  many  that  Conde,  who  of  late  had 
been  rapidly  growing  in  the  Royal  favour,  had  the 
best  chance  of  success.  But  Louis  had  deter- 
mined, by  the  advice  of  Mazarin,  to  govern  for 
himself.     When    de    Harlai,    President    of    the 


234 


Assembly  of  the  Clergy,  inquired  to  whom  lie 
was  to  address  himself  on  public  business  for  the 
future,  the  King  replied,  "  To  me/*  The  courtiers 
smiled,  and  speculated  among  themselves  for  how 
long  their  gay,  pleasure-loving  sovereign  would 
continue  to  waste  his  hours  upon  affairs  of  State. 
But  the  Royal  bird,  whose  bright  plumage  dazzled 
them,  was,  in  truth,  an  eagle,  and  had  already 
begun  his  flight  towards  the  sun.  They  soon  saw, 
with  wonder,  that  the  docile  trifler,  whose  highest 
aim  seemed  to  be  to  excel  in  the  chase,  to  lead  a 
galliard  with  matchless  grace,  or  to  storm  the 
bower  of  some  coy  beauty,  had  shot  up,  with  a 
growth  as  sudden  as  that  of  the  gourd  of  the 
Prophet,  into  the  strongest,  ablest,  and  most 
laborious  ruler  that  had  ever  grasped  the  sceptre 
of  the  Capets. 

Of  unusual  personal  beauty,  a  majestic  mien, 
and  a  bearing  that  personified  dignity  and  grace, 
his  every  look,  tone,  and  gesture  proclaiming  the 
Monarch ;  magnificent  in  his  tastes,  hberal  to  pro- 
fusion, yet  discriminating  in  his  generosity,  thirst- 
ing after  fame  with  an  unsatiable  thirst,  a  despot 
by  nature  and  by  position,  but  making  despotism 
attractive  by  noble  qualities  and  gracious  manners ; 
uniting  to  rapid  penetration,  cool  judgment,  and 
an    iron   will,  a  hvely  imagination   which,  ever 


235 


aspiring  to  reproduce  in  life  its  own  ideal  of  a  King 
clothed  with  the  glorious  attributes  of  a  deity,  lent 
to  his   aims  and  actions  a  striking   and  some-^ 
what  theatrical,  grandeur,  Louis  was  exactly  the 
Prince  to  become  the  idol  of  the  French  people. 
His  subjects,  weary  alike  of  anarchy  and  of  the 
long  rule  of  Cardinal  Mazarin,  dazzled  and  awed 
by  the  majesty,  the  captivating  grace,  and  the 
brilliant  promise  of  their  young  sovereign,  hailed 
his  assumption  of  the  reins  of  Government  with 
enthusiasm.     Louis  succeeded  in  converting  this 
fervid  feeling  of  loyalty  into  a  deep  and  lasting 
sentiment.     His  character  was  far  from  perfect  j 
but  it  was  his  rare  good  fortune  that  its  vices  as 
well  as  its  virtues  promoted  the  consolidation  of 
his  authority.     His  most  conspicuous  faults  as  an 
absolute  ruler  were,  in  the  more  prosperous  period 
of  his  reign,  an  arrogant  egotism    ever   urging 
him   on  to   spoliation   and  warfare,  and  to  pro- 
digious expenditure  which  ministered  to  his  vanity 
but  impoverished  his  kingdom ;  and  the  open  prac- 
tice of  an  unbridled  licentiousness.      He  allowed 
the  phantoms  of  false  ambition  to  lure  him  from 
the  wiser  policy  of  developing  the  resources  of 
his  realm  in  peace  into  a  career  of  aggression,  in 
which  he  deluged  Europe  with  blood  and  tears, 
only  in  the  end  to  make  shipwreck  of  his  own 


236 


237 


greatness   and    of    the    welfare    of    his   people. 
But   this    policy   of    aggrandisement    presented 
almost  irresistible  attractions  to  the  young  mon- 
arch   of   a  restless  nation,   which   had  but  just 
emerged  from  a  state  of  turbulence,  surrounded 
as  he  was  by  military  nobles  impatient  of  inaction, 
having  at  command  the  greatest  captains  of  the 
age,  and  having  for  neighbours  and  antagonists 
small  or  decrepid  states.    In  indulging  his  passion 
for  war  he  at  first  only  floated  on  the  current  of 
national    feeling,   and    did    not    transgress   the 
maxims  of  prudent,  if  unscrupulous.    Statecraft, 
In  enterprises  inspired  mainly  by  the  personal 
pride  and  ostentation  of  their  ruler,  his  subjects 
saw  only  a  patriotic  solicitude  for  the  honour  of 
France.      And  so  long  as  genius,  seconded  by 
fortune  and  wielding  resources  yet  undiminished, 
continued  to  crown  daring  projects  with  splendid 
success,  the  nation,  wrapped  in  a  dream  of  glory, 
abandoned  its  destinies,  without  a  murmur,  to  a 
King,  whom  it  almost  worshipped  as  a  God. 

Again,  the  licentiousness  which,  personified  in 
a  succession  of  mistresses,  long  ruled  the  Court 
of  Louis  with  more  than  queenly  pomp  and  sway, 
cradled  as  it  was  in  the  lap  of  refinement,  clothed 
by  the  graces  with  every  charm,  breathing  the 
incense  of  every  muse,  not  only  enthralled  in  con- 


genial fetters  a  young,  gay,  and  polished  nobility, 
but  even  borrowed  some  attractions  from  virtue 
for  those  who  remembered  the  coarse  debauchery 
of  the  Regency  of  Anne  of  Austria. 

To   counterbalance   these  vices,  which,  being 
characteristic  of  the  French  nation,  aided  the  firm 
establishment  of  his  authority,  the  kingly  virtues 
and   qualifications   of   Louis  were  manifold  and 
conspicuous.     His  abihties  as  a  statesman  were 
first-rate.      His   application   to   the  business   of 
the  State   was   laborious    and   unremitting  ;   his 
decisions    were    always    carefully    weighed,    and 
generally  were  dispassionate.     He  was  gifted  in  a 
rare  degree  with  the  faculty  of  promptly  recog- 
nising men  of  superior  merit.    These  he  diligently 
sought  out  and  preferred  in  every  department  of 
his  service,  listened  to  their  advice,  and  gave  them 
his   entire   confidence   and  support.     To   genius 
Louis  was  a  munificent  and  discriminating  patron. 
Intellectual  superiority  of  every  kind  won  from 
him  an  instant   and  generous  acknowledgment. 
Nor  was  his  bounty  in  this  respect  Hmited  by  the 
confines  of  his  own  dominions.     His  device  was 
the  sun,  and  he  wished   the   rays  of  his   royal 
beneficence  to  penetrate  throughout  the  world. 
He  not  only  invited  celebrated  men  from  foreign 
countries  to  adorn  the  Academies  of  Inscriptions, 


k 


238 


Painting  and  Sculpture,  Architecture^  and  Sciences 
which  he  formed  at  Paris,  calHng  to  the  last- 
named  Cassini  from  Italy,  Huygens  from  Holland, 
and  Romer  from  Denmark ;  but  he  thought  it 
incumbent  on  him,  as  far  as  possible,  to  repair  the 
injustice  of  fortune  to  struggling  genius  in  every 
land.  There  was  hardly  a  country  in  Europe,  no 
matter  what  its  political  relations  with  France,  in 
which  some  gifted  intellect,  pining  in  penury  and 
neglect,  did  not  find  its  labours  encouraged  or  its 
decline  cheered  by  a  delicate  munificence,  which 
did-  not  offer  a  favour,  but  a  tribute  to  the 
sovereignty  of  the  mind  from  the  Great  King. 
No  monarch  was  ever  more  liberal  of  praise  and  of 
reward  for  service,  or  more  scrupulously  slow  to 
censure ;  ever  displayed  less  of  caprice  or  of  dis- 
trust in  his  relations  with  the  servants  of  the 
Crown,  less  of  the  royal  vice  of  ingratitude,  or 
more  of  greatness  of  mind  in  overlooking  personal 
affronts  and  injuries.  No  monarch  ever  granted 
a  favour  with  so  much  delicacy  or  such  enchanting 
grace.  And  although,  as  he  said  himself,  every 
benefit  he  conferred  made  one  person  ungrateful 
and  many  discontented,  he  never  allowed  disap- 
pointment to  ruffle  the  flow  of  his  beneficence. 
The  repugnance  which  he  felt  to  inflict  pain  on  an 
old  minister  or  general  was  sometimes  detrimental 


239 


to  the  public  interests.  He  was  just  and  magna- 
nimous in  his  personal  relations,  a  generous  and 
indulgent  master,  a  warm  and  constant  friend,  a 
placable  enemy. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  the  noble  and  amiable 
qualities  that  made  Louis  XIY  the  greatest,  and, 
by  nature,  one  of  the  best  monarchs  of  France, 
there  is  perhaps  no  other  reign,  partly  by  reason 
of  faults  of  character  in  the  ruler,  but  far  more  by 
reason  of  the  position  he  inherited,  the  scenes  and 
traditions  in  which  he  had  been  educated,  and  the 
abject  spirit  of  his  time,  so  fertile  in  abuses  of 
power,  in  harsh  and  arbitary  suppression  of  the 
rights  of  individuals  and  of  communities,  so 
fraught  with  ruin  to  the  French  Monarchy.  Long 
before  his  power  had  begun  visibly  to  wane,  its 
external  splendour  concealed  incurable  decay,  and 
almost  incredible  misery  and  meanness.  The  gift 
of  Colbert,  which  the  dying  Mazarin  had  made  to 
his  sovereign,  was  one  of  the  most  precious  a  King 
could  possess.  The  secret  assistance  of  this  able 
adviser  having  enabled  Louis  to  detect  the  frauds 
by  means  of  which  the  Superintendent  of  Finance, 
Fouquet,  sought  to  hide  his  enormous  peculations, 
he  imprisoned  the  unfaithful  Minister  for  life,  and 
appointed  Colbert  to  conduct  the  internal  ad- 
ministration of  the    kingdom.     In    a    very  few 


240 


years  Louis,  following  tlie  wise  councils  of  the 
great  statesman,  had  brought  the  finances  to  a 
flourishing  condition,  almost  without  example  in 
France  ;  had  fostered  trade  and  agriculture  into 
extraordinary  activity,  established  the  East  India 
Company,  and  planted  colonies  to  give  an  impulse 
and  an  outlet  to  commerce ;  created  a  fleet  which, 
under  a  succession  of  famous  Admirals,  became  a 
worthy  rival  of  the  navies  of  England  and  Holland ; 
improved  the  administration  of  justice  and  the 
poHce ;  enriched,  embellished  and  humanised  the 
kingdom,  and  especially  the  Capital,  by  works  of 
tasteful  magnificence  and  of  utility,  which  still 
attest  his  claims  to  the  admiration  of  mankind, 
and  by  a  liberal  encouragement  of  all  the  arts  of 
peace. 

But  associated  with  Colbert  was  an  other  Minister, 
not  inferior  in  ability,  though  of  opposite 
character  and  aims,  to  whom  the  business  of 
foreign  relations  was  entrusted.  This  was  Louvois, 
the  son  of  Mazarines  old  Secretary  Le  Telher,  and 
perhaps  the  greatest  War  Minister  that  ever  lived ; 
who,  devoured  by  vanity,  ambition,  and  jealousy, 
strove  incessantly  to  lure  his  sovereign  from  the 
pursuit  of  pacific  triumphs  by  dazzling  his  only 
too  susceptible  imagination  with  visions  of  the 
power  and  glory  to  be  won  in  a  career  of  foreign 


241 


conquest.  After  the  death  of  Philip  lY.  of  Spain, 
and  of  Anne  of  Austria,  Louis,  listening  to  the 
flattering  voice  of  his  evil  genius,  in  preference  to 
the  earnest  remonstrances  of  Colbert  and  Turenne, 
claimed  the  Spanish  Netherlands  in  right  of  his 
wife ;  and  in  1667  invaded  them  at  the  head  of  a 
superb  army  of  fifty  thousand  men.  Turenne,  as 
Marshal  General,  directed  the  operations.  Town 
after  town  fell  to  the  French  arms,  which  advanced 
without  a  check,  until,  in  the  following  year,  the 
triple  alliance  of  England,  Holland,  and  Sweden, 
induced  the  French  King  to  conclude  a  peace, 
which  left  him  in  possession  of  all  his  Flemish 
acquisitions.  This  brief  war,  although  it  some- 
what crippled  Colbert^s  beneficent  pohcy,  did  not 
inflict  any  serious  wound  upon  the  prosperity  of 
the  kingdom. 

But  when  in  1772,  Louis  having  made  himself 
secure  of  the  co-operation  or  neutrality  of 
Charles  II.  of  England,  by  the  treaty  of  Dover, 
and  the  fascinations  of  Louise  de  QuerouaiUes, 
attacked  the  Dutch  with  armaments  on  a  scale  so 
vast  and  complete  as  to  terrify  the  other  leading 
States  of  the  Continent  into  a  coalition  against 
France,  the  strain  of  such  a  gigantic  struggle  as 
no  modem  European  nation  had  hitherto  sustained, 
reduced  the  monarchy  to   a  state  of  exhaustion, 

VOL,   II.  M 


242 


for  whicli  the  immense   glory  and  the  additional 
territory  acquired  were  but   a  poor  equivalent. 
The  wars  that  followed  the  peace  of  Nimeguen, 
maintained  with   ever  increasing   difficulty   and 
sacrifices,  and  attended  with  diminishing  results, 
fatally  aggravated  the  public  distress.     The  skill 
of  Colbert  had  been  taxed  to  the  utmost  to  find 
means  to  support  the  first  prodigious  efforts,  and 
the  almost  incredible  waste  of  public  treasure  upon 
the  gorgeous    folly  of   Versailles,  where    forty 
millions  sterling  are  said  to  have  been  sunk  in 
an  unprofitable  confiict  with  nature.     After  the 
early  death  of  that  Minister,  the  finances  fell  into 
a  state  of  frightful  confusion.     The  magnitude  of 
the  calamity  which  befel  France,  when  the  Parlia- 
ment of  Paris  failed  to  uphold  the  Declaration  of 
the  24th  of  October,   1648,   began  to   manifest 
itself  in  the  most  deplorable  consequences,  when 
an  imperious  Monarch,  in  whose   hands  all  the 
powers  of  the  State  were  concentrated,  could  no 
longer  sustain  the  tottering  fabric  of  his  pride 
and  ambition,  except  by  cruel  injustice  to  his 
people.     The  excessive  burthens  and  the  constant 
drain  of  war  gradually  crushed  all  the  life  of  in- 
dustry out  of  the  miserable  peasants,  depopulated 
whole  tracts  of  country,  and  stifled  conmiercial 
enterprise.     A  multitude  of  useless  offices  were 


243 


every  year  created,  in  order  to  be  sold,  and 
abolished  in  order  to  be  sold  again.  Titles  of 
nobihty,  which  had  been  borne  for  nearly  a 
century,  were  suddenly  revoked,  and  conferred 
again  for  fresh  payments.  Crown  lands  that  had 
been  aHenated  to  reward  service,  or  for  other 
valuable  consideration,  in  former  reigns,  were  re- 
sumed and  conveyed  to  new  purchasers.  It  has 
been  observed  by  De  Tocqueville  that  if  one  of 
the  subjects  of  the  Great  King  had  practised 
some  of  the  financial  expedients  openly  resorted 
to  by  his  Sovereign,  he  would  inevitably  have 
found  himself  arraigned  at  the  bar  of  Criminal 
Justice.  The  old  local  liberties  died  out  through- 
out three  parts  of  the  realm,  and  survived  with 
only  a  shadowy  existence  in  the  pays  d'etat.  The 
royal  Intendants  and  their  subordinates  assumed 
or  controlled  the  administration  of  the  provinces 
and  the  communes,  even  to  the  most  trifling  par- 
ticulars. The  cities  of  France  had  hitherto 
enjoyed  the  privilege  of  electing  their  own  magis- 
trates. Louis  abolished  this  right  of  election,  and 
exposed  the  municipal  offices  for  sale.  The  nobles, 
stripped  of  all  their  ancient  power,  but  with  all 
their  ancient  privileges  confirmed  and  augmented, 
were  drawn  to  Court,  to  glitter  in  gilded  servi- 
tude, the  favoured  servants  of  an  absolute  master. 

M  2 


244 


But,  notwithstanding  their  odious  exemptions 
from  public  burthens,  and  their  vexatious  feudal 
exactions,  the  revenues  of  the  nobles  gradually 
melted  away  in  profusion  and  luxury,  until,  in 
course  of  time,  the  vast  majority  of  them,  vegeta- 
ting in  privileged  penury  in  their  mouldering 
chateaux,  became  objects  of  contempt  as  well  as 
of  hatred  to  their  nominal  vassals. 

The  same  policy  which  destroyed  local  liberties 
and  centred  all  authority  in  the  Sovereign,  had 
the  unforeseen  and  unwelcome  effect  of  collecting 
all  the  energy  and  intellect  of  the  country  at  Paris, 
which  grew  in  extent  and  population  with  amazing 
rapidity.  Louis,  by  repeated  enactments,  vainly 
endeavoured  to  check  a  development  which  excited 
his  jealousy  and  alarm  ;  his  own  despotism  created 
the  revolutionary  power  which  so  mercilessly 
avenged  on  his  posterity  the  evils  of  his  rule,  and 
laid  his  Monarchy  in  ruins. 

This  arbitrary  system  of  personal  Government, 
so  pernicious  to  the  State,  exercised  a  still  more 
baneful  influence  on  the  Church.  The  provision 
in  the  Concordat  concluded  at  Bologna  in  the  year 
1516,  which  conferred  on  Francis  I.  and  his  suc- 
cessors the  right  of  nominating  to  ecclesiastical 
benefices,  had  from  the  beginning  been  prolific  of 
abuses  detrimental  to  religion ;  and  the  evil  in- 


245 


creased  with  the  gradual  extinction  of    public 
liberty.     Many  of  the  French  Bishops  of  the  time 
of  Louis  Xjy.  showed  a  subserviency  to  the  will 
of  their  Sovereign  as  complete  as  had  been  the  sub- 
serviency of  the  English  Bishops  to  Henry  YIII. 
The  question  of  the  Galhcan  liberties,  raised  by 
Colbert,  with  the  view  of  exalting  the  power  of 
the  Crown,  meant  in  reality  the  servitude  of  the 
Gallican  Church.     Condfe,  a  keen  if  cynical  ob- 
server, remarked  at  the  time  that  if  Louis  were  to 
turn  Mohammedan,  the  majority  of  his  prelates 
would  follow  his  example.     The  CathoHc  Church 
had  owed  her  downfall  in  England  mainly  to  the 
incredible     cowardice      and     baseness     of    the 
Episcopacy,   with  the   one    noble   exception    of 
Cardinal   Fisher.     It   was  perhaps  well  for  her 
stabihty  in  France  that  the  French  Monarch  was 
a  sincere  and  unswerving  believer  in  her   creed. 
In  both  cases  servility  to  the  temporal  power  was 
joined  to  religious    intolerance.      The    English 
Bishops  had  had  the  impudence  to  send  to  the 
flames  for  theological  error  men  more  honest  and 
blameless  than  themselves.     The  French  Bishops 
promoted  with  zeal  their  Sovereign's  indefensible 
measures  against  the  Huguenots. 

It  was  not,  however,  until  long  after  the  death 
of  the  Great  King,  until  the  ecclesiastical  patron- 


246 


age  of  the  realm  passed  througli  the  hands  of  the' 
Regent  Orleans,  and  Madame  de  Pompadour,  and 
Madame  Dubany,  that  it  became  evident  how 
fatally  injurious  to  religion  was  the  political 
system  which  attained  to  maturity  under  his 
reign.  When  the  nation  awoke  from  the  long, 
death-like  torpor  which  followed  the  ruinous  war 
of  the  Succession,  to  Hsten  eagerly  to  the  teachings 
of  the  Philosophers,  the  Church  found  herself  ex- 
posed, through  her  close  connexion  with  the  State,. 
to  furious  assaults,  which  the  deadening  influence 
of  that  connexion  rendered  her  impotent  to  repel.. 
Endowed  with  extensive  possessions,  which  carried 
with  them  all  the  privileges  of  exemption  from 
taxation,  and  of  feudal  service  so  odious  and  so 
onerous  to  the  peasants ;  exacting  from  these,, 
besides,  the  tenth  part  of  their  scanty  in- 
comes ;  her  rich  benefices  filled  with  members  of 
a  privileged  class,  nominees  of  the  Crown  — 
the  lives  of  some  of  whom  cast  greater  ridicule 
on  her  doctrines  than  did  all  the  malignant  wit 
of  the  scoffers — the  Church,  instead  of  inspiring 
veneration  and  confidence  in  the  people,  became 
the  chief  object  of  their  hatred  and  suspicion, 
and  presented  a  vulnerable  point  to  the  atheis- 
tical shafts  of  Voltaire  and  the  Encyclopoedists* 
Illustrious,  both  before  and  since,  for  some  of  tha 


247 


brightest   luminaries    and  most    fearless   cham- 
pions of  the  Christian   faith,  in   the  hour  of  her 
greatest    peril,  intellect  and   zeal   seemed   dead 
within   her.     No  great  spiritual  chief  arose,  di- 
vinely-commissioned, from  her  faltering  ranks  to 
rekindle  the  fervour  of  religion,  and  scatter  the 
terrible  host   of  her   enemies.     Discredited  and 
betrayed,  she  fell  ingloriously;  and   Christianity 
fell  with   her,  buried   under  a   boiling  flood  of 
rancorous  unbelief.     That   this  catastrophe  was 
attributable  to  the  accidental  circumstance  that 
the  clerical  order  formed  a  bulwark  and  a  com- 
ponent part  of  a  political  system,  demoralizing  in 
itself,  and  hateful  to  the  great  majority  of  French- 
men, rather  than  to  any  general  revolt  of  French 
intelligence  from   Catholic  dogmas,  seems   clear. 
When  the  old  Monarchy  and  all  its  institutions 
had  been  swept   away  for  ever,  the  Church  not 
only  erected  herself    again,    but,   being   disen- 
cumbered of  the  temporal  distinctions  which  had 
clung  to  her  from  feudal  society,  and  despoiled  of 
the  wealth  which  had  led  to  the  perverting  of  her 
august  functions  into  a  profane  masquerade,  re- 
established herself  in  the  heart  of  the  nation,  and 
vindicated  her  claims  to  divine  authority  with  an 
intellectual  power,  a  fruitfulness   of  conviction. 


248 


and   a  noble   independence  which  she  had  not 
exhibited  during  the  18th  century. 

To  anyone  who  considers  impartially  the  con- 
dition  of  the  vast  majority  of  the  French  people 
during  the  18th  century  ;  ground  down  by  the 
King,  the  nobles,  and  the  clergy ;  cherishing,  in 
their  wretchedness,  envy  and  animosity  towards 
the  privileged  orders ;  held  in  pupilage  by  func- 
tionaries of  the  Crown,  even  to  the  most  trivial 
details  of  their  civil  life,  and  of  the  exercise  of 
their  labour ;  saturated  with  the  ideas  of  theorists 
as  deficient  as  themselves  in  practical  knowledge 
of  free  institutions,  but  who  proclaimed  with 
marvellous  wit  and  eloquence  that  the  Catholic 
Church  was  an  imposture,  and  that  the  galling 
inequaHties  of  society  were  an  outrage  upon 
natural  justice  and  the  rights  of  man  ;  the  frantic 
spirit  of  destruction  and  impiety,  which  amazed 
and  horrified  the  world  in  1793,  becomes  in- 
telligible. Writers,  whose  opinions  deserve 
respect,  heap  somewhat  undiscriminating  censure 
on  the  so-called  principles  of  1 789,  and  seem  to 
regard  the  epoch  itself  as  the  fountain-head  of  all 
the  political  and  social  changes,  of  an  irreligious 
character,  which  the  revolutionary  propagandism 
has  introduced  throughout  Europe.     Some  of  the 


249 


principles   asserted   by  the  National   Assembly, 
as,  for    instance,   the    equality    of    all    citizens 
before  the   law,   and  the  right  of   a  nation  to 
participate  in   the   making   of   its  laws,  and  in 
the  imposing  of  its  taxes,  are  founded  in  jus- 
tice ;    and    although    then    announced,    amidst 
triumphant  poeans,  as  a  new  revelation  to  man- 
kind, are  as  old  as  the  most  ancient,  free,  and 
well-governed  communities  of  the  world.    Others 
tend  to  destroy  the  foundations  of  Christian  society, 
and  bear  the  stamp  of  the  Godless  intellects  that 
gave  them  currency.  But  even  these,  no  matter  how 
widely  scattered,  would  have  borne  comparatively 
little  fruit,  had  they  not  found  political  and  social 
conditions  so  eminently  adapted  to  give  them  root 
and  nourishment.      The  fact  seems  to  be  that  the 
ancieji  regime ,  with  its  royal  theory  of  divine  right, 
borrowed   from   a  narrow   school  of    Protestant 
divines,  and  its  pretensions  to  uphold  religion  and 
order,   while  undermining  the  authority  of  the 
Church,  fostering  class  hatreds,  and  stifling  the 
healthy  life  of  political  freedom,  was  more  instru- 
mental in  disseminating  the  anarchical  and  Pagan 
ideas  which,  spreading  from  France,  have  infected 
the  whole  political  and  social  life  of  Europe  than 
all  the  Philosophers,  Economists,  and  Apostles  of 

Revolution  put  together. 

M  5 


250 


In  truth,  the  reverses  that   Christianity  has 
suffered  in   Catholic   countries,  in  recent  times,, 
must  be  chiefly  ascribed  to  the  lethargy  that  crept  - 
over  the  Catholic  Church  in  her  long  connection 
with  vicious  forms  of  government.     While   she 
slept,  the  strongholds  of  opinion  were  surprised, 
and  its  weapons  were  wrested  from  her  hands  by 
the  active  zeal  of  her  enemies.     She  awoke  to  the 
crash  of  systems  and  dynasties  toppling  into  ruin, 
to  find  that  the  intelligence  and  the  patriotism  of 
nearly  every  CathoHc  land  had  become  citadels 
of  infidelity,  and  that   the  direction    of  modern 
thought  had,  in  a  great  measure,  escaped  from  her 
control.      It  was  in  those  countries  where  free 
institutions,   no   matter   how   apparently  hostile 
to    it,    flourished,    that    the    Catholic    principle 
continued  vigorous    and    unconquerable.       And 
it  seems  clear,  that   it  is    by   recurring  to  her 
own    ancient    policy,  which   modem   scepticism 
has    so  skilfully  made  its  own  ;  it  is  by  means 
of  independent  efforts,  in  the  domains  of  thought, 
to   enlighten  and  guide   the   popular   mind,  by 
making  her  legitimate  influence  felt  in  political 
life  through  the  sovereignty  of  the  people — the 
only    expression    of    divine    right    in    temporal 
government    which  her    theologians    have   ever 
accepted — that,  humanly  speaking^,  the  Catholic 


251 


Church  can  recover  the  ground  she  has  lost,  and 
prevail  in  her  present  struggle  of  life  and  death 
against  by  far  the  most  formidable  alliance  of 
intellect  without  faith,  with  power  without  con- 
science, she  has  been  called  upon  to  confront 
since  the  death  of  Julian  the  Apostate. 

The  piety  that  distinguished  the  latter  half  of 
Louis  Xiy .^s  life  was  sincere  and  fervent ;  but, 
being  impressed  with  the  despotic  character  of 
the  Monarch,  it  was  perhaps  more  hurtful  to  his 
kingdom  than  the  ostentatious  profligacy  of  his 
youth  had  been.  Not  that  his  intolerance  was 
exceptionally  harsh.  It  certainly  was  not  so 
ruthless  as  much  of  the  Protestant  intolerance  of 
the  time.  The  dragonnades  which  called  forth 
loud  cries  of  indignation  from  persecuting 
champions  of  religious  liberty  in  neighbouring 
nations,  were  retaliation  for  an  outbreak,  stained 
with  revolting  cruelties.  But,  in  banishing  from 
his  impoverished  and  depopulated  kingdom  a 
multitude  of  industrious  citizens,  gallant  soldiers, 
and  skilful  officers,  to  augment  the  prosperity, 
and  inflame  with  a  deadlier  rancour  the  opposition 
of  his  foes,  foi^  the  offence  of  fidelity  to  their 
religious  conviction,  he  sinned  greviously  against 
justice  and  sound  policy.  And  a  system  of 
proselytism   which    used     temporal    motives  to 


252 


253 


coerce  or  to  seduce  the  Huguenots  into  conformity 
with  the  established  creed,  sapped  public 
morality,  and  directly  promoted  hypocrisy  and 
scepticism. 

Like  the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  and 
the  excesses  of  the  Spanish  Inquisition,  with 
which  Catholicism  is  so  frequently  taunted, 
Louis  XIY/s  oppression  of  the  Huguenots  was 
the  fruit  of  the  jealous  policy  of  a  despotic 
Sovereign,  not  of  the  teaching  of  the  Catholic 
Church.  The  Pope  expressed  his  strong  dis- 
approval of  the  perverting  influences  brought 
to  bear  by  the  French  Monarch  on  his  Calvinist 
subjects,  as  being  calculated  to  foster  deceit  and 
infidelity.  It  is,  indeed,  a  historical  fact,  easily 
capable  of  proof,  that  the  dealings  of  the  Koman 
Inquisition  with  religious  error  in  the  Papal 
States,  since  the  Reformation,  bear  favourable 
comparison,  as  regards  lenity,  with  the  proscrip- 
tions of  the  most  tolerant  Protestant  power.  And 
it  should  be  remembered,  that  in  a  system  based 
upon  the  doctrine  of  infallibility  repression  of 
dissent  is  not,  what  it  is  in  systems  based  on  free- 
dom of  judgment,  a  glaring  violation  of  funda- 
mental principle. 

The  censure  of  the  Pope  was  only  too  well 
justified  by  the  result.     The  campaign  against 


heresy,  that  culminated  in  the  revocation  of  the 
Edict  of  Nantes,  was  in  every  way  disastrous  to 
the  victors.  Numerous  anecdotes,  floating  about 
at  the  time,  bore  testimony  to  the  low  estimate 
formed  even  at  the  French  Court  of  the  sincerity 
of  many  of  the  fashionable  conversions.  A 
Huguenot  family  of  some  distinction,  consisting 
of  a  brother  and  two  sisters,  had  embraced  the 
Catholic  faith ;  the  ladies  through  conviction,  but 
their  brother  with  the  view  of  pushing  his  for- 
tunes at  Versailles.  His  conduct  so  displeased 
an  uncle,  a  staunch  follower  of  Calvin,  from  whom 
he  had  large  expectations,  that  the  old  man  at  his 
death  left  all  his  possessions  to  more  distant  rela- 
tives. The  brother  wrote  to  condole  with  his 
sisters  on  their  common  misfortune.  "  You,^^  he 
said,  ^^  who  are  pious  Catholics,  can  solace  your 
disappointment  with  the  reflection  that  our  uncle 
is  now  in  eternal  torments ;  but  for  me  there  does 
not  remain  even  that  consolation.^^  On  another 
occasion,  when  a  Huguenot  lady  of  celebrity,  wha 
had  separated  from  her  lord,  became  a  Catholic, 
her  friends  ascribed  the  change  to  her  strong 
desire  never  again  to  meet  her  husband,  either  in 
this  world  or  in  the  next. 

It  would,  however,  be  manifestly  unjust  to  hold 
Louis  XIV.  personally  responsible  for  all  the  evils 


254 


that  flowed  from  his  rule.  His  political  education, 
the  memories  of  his  boyhood,  the  irresponsible 
position  created  for  him  by  the  policy  of  his 
predecessors,  the  splendour  of  his  early  prosperity, 
and  the  adulation  of  his  people,  had  a  pernicious 
influence  upon  an  imperious  and  somewhat  vain- 
glorious, but  singularly  noble  nature.  The  great 
qualities  of  the  Sovereign,  however,  only  ren- 
dered his  career  a  more  striking  proof  of  the 
radical  badness  of  a  system,  that  invested  one 
man  with  absolute  control  over  the  lives  and 
fortunes  of  so  many  millions  of  his  fellow-creatures, 
and  over  the  fate  of  generations  yet  unborn.  The 
high  praise  is  due  principally  to  Louis  himself, 
that  perhaps  there  is  no  example  in  history  of  a 
reign  equally  long,  and  presenting  such  a  heri- 
tage of  troubled  memories  to  the  jealous  vigilance 
of  unbounded  despotism,  in  which  so  little  blood 
was  shed  on  the  scaffold  for  political  offences. 

If  adversity  be  the  true  touchstone  of  greatness 
of  soul,  few  Princes  have  stood  the  test  so  well  as 
Louis  XIV.  In  the  days  of  his  cloudless  pros- 
perity, when  flushed  with  the  insolence  of  victory, 
or  drunk  with  the  fumes  of  adulation,  he  may 
occasionally  have  forgotten  he  was  a  mere  mortal. 
It  is  at  the  melancholy  close  of  his  career,  when 
the  declining  glories  of  the  great  monarchy,  which 


255 


had  thrown  surrounding  nations  into  dim  ecHpse^ 
were  clouded  by  disaster;  when  the  old  King, 
having  survived  the  great  statesmen  and  generals 
of  his  prime,  having  survived  three  generations 
of  his  own  descendants — his  armies  routed,  his 
fleets  destroyed,  his  treasury  bankrupt,  his  people 
perishing  from  famine  and  pestilence,  and  utter- 
ing cries  of  anguish  and  despair,  which  he  could 
only  answer  with  tears  of  pity  and  remorse — con- 
fronted the  ungenerous  foes,  who,  having  van- 
quished, insisted  on   dishonouring  him,   with   a 
grand   fortitude   which   half  redeemed  his  fatal 
ambition — that  he  most  commands  our  admiration. 
The  conduct  of  Louis  towards  the  unfortunate 
James  II.  of  England  reflects  a  purer  glory  on  his 
name  than  the  most  brilliant  achievements  of  his 
arms  or  his  poHcy.  There  was  little  in  the  character 
or  proceedings  of  James  to  conciliate  affection  or 
esteem.     Ordinary  prudence,  when  the  storm  of 
invasion  that  overwhelmed  him  was  yet  sleeping  in 
the  distant  thunder-cloud,  ordinary  firmness,  when 
it  had  burst  upon  his  kingdom,  would,  in  all  human 
probability,  have  saved  his  crown.     Smitten,  how- 
ever, with  the  infatuation  which  seizes  on  those 
dynasties  which  Providence  has  doomed,  he  was 
deaf  to  the  French  King's  warnings  and  proffers 
of  aid,  while  the  danger  might  have  been  warded 


256 


off,  equally  deaf  to  the  voice  of  honour  when  it 
should  have  been  boldly  confronted.   The  imbecile 
recklessness  with  which  he  risked  his  throne  was 
only  to  be  equalled  by  the  imbecile  poltroonery 
through  which  he  lost  it.     But  from  the  moment 
James  landed  a  fugitive  upon  the  soil  of  France, 
Louis  no  longer  saw  the  weak  Sovereign.    He  saw 
only  fallen  majesty,  which  calamity  had  but  scathed 
in  order  to  sanctify,  and  whose  blemishes  it  would 
have  been  sacrilege  to  scan  too  curiously.     The 
noble  friendship  which  shielded  the  last  years  of 
the  ill-fated  James,  so  chivabous,  so  tender,  which 
no  reverses  could  weary,  which  no  lapse  of  time 
nor  considerations  of  interest  could  chill,  is  with- 
out parallel  in  history. 

Of  the  Court  of  the  Great  King,  at  the  period 
of  its  proudest  splendour,  Conde  was  one  of  the 
most  briUiant  ornaments.  His  martial  genius  and 
renown  were  pre-eminent,  and  circumstances  had 
moulded  the  fiery  leader  of  the  Fronde  into  the 
most  graceful  and  assiduous  of  courtiers.  Louis, 
won  by  the  Prince's  great  qualities,  and  his  evi- 
dent anxiety  to  obliterate  the  past,  after  a  time 
distinguished  his  cousin  in  the  highest  degree  by 
his  confidence  and  favour. 

In  1663  Cond6  married  his  son,  the  Duke  of 
Enghien,  to  Anne  of  Bavaria,  the  daughter  of  his 


257 


old  friend  the  Princess  Palatine.  The  young  lady 
had  been  adopted  by  her  aunt,  the  Queen  of 
Poland,  and  brought  an  immense  dowry  to  her 
husband.  When  Louis  attacked  the  Spanish 
Netherlands,  in  1667,  Conde  was  suffered  to  re- 
main in  retirement.  But,  in  the  following  year, 
Louvois  having  quarrelled  with  Turenne,  now 
Marshal- General  of  the  Armies  of  France,  the 
Prince,  at  the  War  Minister's  suggestion,  drew  out 
a  plan  for  the  conquest  of  Franche  Compte,  and,' 
being  entrusted  with  its  execution,  over-ran  and 
annexed  the  province  in  fourteen  days. 

In  the  war  against  Holland,  in  1672,  Conde 
commanded  in  chief,  under  the  King,  and  planned 
the  celebrated  passage  of  the  Ehine,  which  still 
lives  in  the  Gallery  of  Victories  at  Versailles,  on 
the  canvas  of  Lebrun.  Here  he  received  his  first 
dangerous  wound,  which  incapacitated  him  for 
further  service  during  the  campaign;  and  what 
pained  him  more  acutely,  he  saw  his  nephew,  the 
young  Duke  of  Longueville,  the  last  of  an 
illustrious  race,  killed  by  his  side.  It  was  to 
Louis'  neglect  of  Conde's  advice  to  march  rapidly 
on  Amsterdam  that  the  Dutch  commonwealth 
owed  its  escape  from  destruction.  The  time  lost 
by  the  French  Monarch  in  capturing  second-rate 
towns,  and  in  dictating  humiliating  terms  of  peace,, 
gave  his  foes  leisure  to  recover  from  their  conster- 


258 


nation,  and  to  cut  their  dykes.  Spain,  the 
Emperor,  and  several  of  the  minor  German  powers 
came  to  the  assistance  of  the  States.  England, 
on  obtaining  her  demands,  retired  from  the  con- 
flict ;  and  France  had  to  support  alone  the  shock 
of  a  host  of  enemies. 

In  1674  Conde  sketched  out  a  second  plan  of 
operations  against  Franche  Compte,  which  resulted 
in  the  final  incorporation  of  that  territory  with 
France.  In  the  same  year,  with  inferior  forces, 
he  won  the  great  victory  of  Seneff  over  the  PrinCe 
of  Orange.  Among  his  prisoners  was  Count 
Staremberg,  who  was  sent  to  Rhiems,  and  there 
publicly  drank  the  health  of  his  late  Commander. 
"  The  Prince  of  Orange  is  a  man  of  honour,"  said 
the  Count,  ^'  on  whom  I  shall  rely  all  my  life  ;  he 
promised  me  that  I  should  drink  champagne  in 
Champagne,  and  you  see  that  he  has  kept  his  word." 
When  Conde  returned  to  Versailles,  Louis  ad- 
vanced to  the  head  of  the  grand  staircase  to  meet 
him.  The  Prince,  a  martyr  to  gout,  slowly 
ascended  the  steps  and  entreated  his  Sovereign's 
pardon  for  making  him  wait.  "  My  cousin,"  the 
King  replied,  '^  when  one  is  so  laden  with  laurels 
it  is  difficult  to  walk  fast." 

In  the  following  year  Turenne  was  killed  in  the 
lines  of  Stokhofen,  as  he  was  reconnoitering  the 
position  of  the  renowned  General  Montecuculi, 


259 


before  fighting  a  decisive  battle.  His  fall  waa 
mourned  by  friend  and  foe.  "  There,"  exclaimed 
his  great  antagonist,  ^^  died  a  man  who  did  honour 
to  man."  Louis  paid  the  memory  of  the  illustrious 
Marshal  the  highest  tribute  it  was  in  his  power  to 
render,  by  ordering  his  remains  to  be  deposited 
at  St.  Denis  among  those  of  the  Kings  of  France. 
The  French  Army,  disheartened  by  the  loss  of  its 
Commander,  retreated  in  confusion  across  the 
Rhine,  closely  pursued  by  Montecuculi ;  and  Conde 
was  summoned  in  haste  from  Flanders  to  defend 
Alsace.  On  assuming  this  perilous  command,  he 
said,  '^  How  much  I  wish  to  converse  only  two 
hours  with  the  shade  of  Turenne,  so  as  to  be  able 
to  follow  the  scope  of  his  ideas."  It  almost 
seemed  as  if  he  had  obtained  his  wish ;  so  com- 
pletely did  he  subordinate  his  own  impetuous 
genius  to  the  more  cautious  spirit  that  had  guided 
the  strategy  of  his  old  friend  and  rival.  By 
skilful  manoeuvres  he  foiled  the  efforts  of  the 
Germans  to  penetrate  into  France,  and  finally 
compelled  them  to  recross  the  Rhine.  This  was 
his  last  military  service  to  his  country.  Although 
still  hardly  past  the  summer  of  life,  the  excesses 
and  fatigues  of  his  youth  had  brought  upon  him 
the  decrepitude  of  old  age.  Severe  attacks  of 
gout  distracted  his  mind  and  crippled  his  body. 
He  therefore  wisely  judged  that  it  was  time  for 


260 


him  to  retire  under  the  shadow  of  his  hard  won 
laurels  ;  and  at  the  close  of  his  campaign  against 
Montecuculi,  he  bade  a  final  adieu  to  the  profession 

of  arms. 

The  prosperous  tenour  of  the  Prince's  career 
since  his  reconciliation  with  his  Sovereign  had 
been  chequered  by  two  untoward  events — one 
political,  and  one  domestic.  The  throne  of  Poland 
having  become  vacant,  an  influential  party  in  that 
kingdom  solicited  him  to  accept  the  crown.  He 
was  anxious  to  comply  ;  his  election  was  scarcely 
doubtful ;  but  Louis  refused  his  consent.  Keasons 
of  State  policy  were  alleged ;  but  it  is  probable 
that  some  lingering  distrust  and  jealousy  of  his 
cousin  influenced  the  King's  decision.  Conde 
bowed  to  the  will  of  his  Sovereign  with  the 
unmurmuring  obedience  which  had  come  to  be 
regarded  in  France  as  the  highest  political  virtue. 

The  second  event  has  left  a  deep  stain  upon 
Conde's  memory.  The  devoted  love,  the  heroic 
courage,  the  extraordinary  merits  which  the 
Princess  of  Conde  displayed  during  the  Bordeaux 
war,  had  failed  to  conciliate  the  affection  of  her  hus- 
band, or  the  esteem  of  his  family.  And,  through 
some  distortion  of  nature,  the  son,  who  had  been  her 
joy  and  her  sohcitude  during  the  vicissitudes  of 
that  remarkable  struggle,  became,  when  he  grew 
up  to  manhood,  the  worst  enemy  of  his  mother. 


261 


Some  words  of  menace  and  insult  addressed  to 
her  in  her  own  chamber  by  a  footman  named 
Duval,  followed  by  a  murderous  assault,  aroused 
vague  suspicions.  Unfortunately  for  her,  it  re- 
quired only  a  breath  to  ripen  suspicion  into 
conviction  in  the  minds  of  those  who  had  the 
control  of  her  destiny.  A  secret  investigation  was 
held  by  order  of  the  King.  At  its  termination 
the  Princess  was  hurried  into  close  confinement, 
and  compelled  to  surrender  her  large  patrimony 
to  her  son.  Her  prison  was  the  stern  old  Castle 
of  Chateauroux,  in  Berri,  built  in  the  tenth  cen- 
tury, the  same  melancholy  abode  to  which  she  had 
been  exiled  by  Anne  of  Austria,  before  the  war 
of  Bordeaux.  Louis  shortly  afterwards  promised 
Conde  that  her  imprisonment  should  be  perpetual. 
Even  in  that  day  the  behef  in  her  innocence  was 
general.  The  sober,  searching  light  of  time, 
which  reveals  much  that  is  lost  in  the  dazzling 
glare,  or  in  the  deep  shadows  of  contemporaneous 
life,  has  established  it  mor^  clearly.  She  appears 
to  have  been  sacrificed  to  the  dislike  of  her  hus- 
band, the  pride  of  his  family,  and  the  avarice  of 
her  unnatural  son.  In  the  sad  solitude  of  her 
prison,  Claire  de  MailM  completed  the  weary  cycle 
of  her  existence.  Her  own  family  were  all  dead. 
The  bitter  blast   of  adversity  killed  her  friends. 


262 


No  ray  of  sympathy  or  of  hope  cheered  the  gloom 
of  the  long  captivity  in  which  her  life  slowly 
wasted  away.  Forgotten  by  all,  more  than  twenty 
years  rolled  by  before  death,  in  unbarring  her  wel- 
come passage  from  her  living  tomb  to  that  where  he 
reigns,  reminded  the  world  that  she  had  existed. 
Even  the  grave  could  not  shield  her  from  injury. 
The  evil  fortune  which  had  dogged  her  footsteps 
during  life,  pursued  all  of  her  it  had  power  over, 
to  her  last  resting-place.  In  after  years  her 
sepulchre  was  violated,  and  her  dust  was  scattered 
to  the  winds.  Truly,  the  story  of  this  Princess, 
so  gentle  and  so  loving,  so  adorned  by  virtues 
and  talents,  and  yet  the  victim  of  a  relentless 
destiny,  which  sowed  her  path  with  sorrows, 
almost  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  is  one  of 
the  saddest  recorded  in  history. 

The  evening  of  Conde^s  life  was  gilded  by  the 
ricn  glow  of  a  splendid  prosperity.  The  ruin 
which  years  of  civil  war,  exile,  and  peculation  had 
wrought  in  his  immense  revenues,  was  repaired 
by  the  able  management  of  Gourville,  to  whose 
assistance  he  had  recourse  after  his  return  to 
France.  His  time  was  passed  chiefly  at  Chantilly — 
where  art  decked  with  its  rarest  gems  the  abound- 
ing charms  of  nature — in  superintending  the  edu- 
cation  of  his  grandchildren,  in   beautifying  his 


263 

unrivalled  gardens,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  a 
brilliant  society.  It  was  his  greatest  pleasure  to 
assemble  around  him  eminent  poets,  painters, 
philosophers,  and  men  of  science,  whose  intel- 
lectual strife,  the  clashing  of  mind  with  mind, 
from  which  flashes  of  divine  light,  immortal  ideas, 
emanate,  he  relished  with  the  keen  delight  of 
kindred  genius;  and  whom  he  loaded  with  benefits. 
His  occasional  visits  to  the  Court  were  repaid  by 
the  distinguished  favour  of  the  King,  and  by  the 
boundless  admiration  of  the  fair  and  the  brave. 
In  an  age  of  licentiousness  and  impiety  Conde  had 
been  notorious  as  a  roue  and  a  scoffer.  And  when 
that  age  had  passed  away  his  irreligious  senti- 
ments remained  unchanged.  His  friends  long 
despaired  of  his  conversion.  But  the  conversion 
of  the  Princess  Palatine,  who  had  herself  declared 
that  such  an  event  would  be  the  greatest  of 
miracles ;  and,  above  all,  the  exemplary  death  of 
his  sister,  the  Duchess  of  Longueville,  after  she 
had  atoned  by  nearly  thirty  years  of  penitence 
for  her  excesses  during  the  period  of  the 
Fronde,  shattered  the  rind  of  scepticism  that 
enfolded  his  heart.  The  springs  of  religion, 
which  had  seemed  dried  up  within  him,  un- 
sealed by  a  dread  hand,  burst  forth  again. 
And  the  promptings  of  his  better  nature  were 


264 

strengthened  by  arguments  whicli  flowed,  burning 
with  divine  fire,  from  the  lips  of  Bossuet.     After 
repeated  conferences  with  the  Bishop  of  Meaux, 
Conde,  in  1685,  publicly  returned  to  the  bosom  of 
Christianity.      His  submission  to  the  Church  was 
a  severe  blow  to  infidels.     Voltaire  declares  that 
age  made  a  driveller  of  the  hero  of  Rocroi.     In 
the  same  year,  his  grandson,  the  Duke  of  Bourbon, 
married  Mademoiselle  de  Nantes,  one  of  the  chil- 
dren of  Louis  XIV.  and  Madame  de  Montespan. 
The  Duchess,  not  long  afterwards,  was  attacked 
with    small-pox     at    Fontainebleau.       The    old 
Prince    hurried    off    from     Chantilly,   to    watch 
by  her  sick  couch,  but  the  agitation  and  fatigue 
he   underwent  proved    fatal    to    his   debihtated 
frame.     He  died  at  Fontainebleau,  in  the  sixty- 
fifth  year  of  his   age,   penitent,   and  resigned, 
amidst  universal  regret,  leaving  behind  him   a 
name  immortalised  by  his  own  great  actions,  and 
by  the  eloquence  of  Bossuet. 


THE   END. 


T.  C.  Nkwby,  30,  Welbeck  Street,  Cavendish  Square,  London. 


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